Hush
by Shining Bright Eyes
Summary: Draco Malfoy is being overcome by a foreign power. His story as he learns to control the dæmon. SEQUEL NOW UP.
1. The Diary

Title: Hush, they're always listening.

Author: Bright Eyes (with capitals and 1 space in between)

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing

Word Count: 1,406

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling. If it were mine it wouldn't have found its way out from under my bed and nobody would know its fantabulous tale!

Rating: PG (may go up or down depending on where it goes)

A/N: I am going through revising all of the chapters. So apologies if chapter 8 is a little late. It is very important I go through and revise or chapter 8 will make no sense.

Prologue: The Diary

Name: Madam Poppy Pomfrey.

Position of occupation: Matron at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Draco Malfoy was admitted into my care two days after the Quiddich Season had finished. Teachers had complained that he had stopped talking, refused to answer questions or participate in activities during class.

It was Professor Severus Snape who brought the matter to my attention. Being Head of Mister Malfoy's House, he had received multiple complaints about Draco's behaviour. Of course this was usual. Draco was notorious for disrupting classes and being a general nuisance, but this was a complete contradiction from his previous behaviour. When Professor Snape took Mr. Malfoy's class a few days into his abnormal behaviour, he reported it directly to the Infirmary.

Mr. Malfoy expressed no look of deep thought or unusual emotion that would go with such behaviour; he was silent, even to his good friends and classmates.

I was always interested in Muggle medicine especially one form, psychology. It was something not many wizarding folk knew about. You learnt about the way people think, how they operate, patterns and emotions. This was probably why Professor Dumbledore hired me. There were many others, who were more qualified than me in the art of Healing, but at a school it is important to understand not only the body, but the mind as well; why a student has a breakdown or starts crying without warning during a class without making the situation worse by asking immediate probing questions.

When Draco Malfoy got told to go to the Hospital Wing he put up no fight. He merely picked up his homework he'd been doing in his common room and followed Professor Snape. When I showed him his bed he simply sat down on it and continued his homework. I then asked him for his wand. I refused students to have their wands in the hospital sing for many years now. Fights often broke out between injured Quiddich players of the opposite team or students that had been injured by fighting. He remained unresponsive for a moment but then handed over his hand crafted ebony wand without looking up.

Mr Malfoy stayed the night without any arguments. I was about to inform his parents that there was a problem when I realized that maybe I should wait a few days with a case like this. I had discovered in the past that talking to students' parents immediately was not prudent.

It was approximately midnight, Mr Malfoy's second night in the infirmary. I'd been finishing some paperwork to order in more Skelligrow for the upcoming Quidditch season, when I heard a strange sound coming from the main ward. I walked silently towards my office door. I looked through the blinds and saw the strangest sight, and for a moment I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.

Draco Malfoy was deep in sleep facing the infirmary entrance on the opposite side of the room to my office. He seemed to be glowing slightly; it illuminated his pale skin and fair hair. I was entranced, I had only heard of such things in books hundreds of years old. Draco shifted to face in my direction. His eyes glowed a blinding silver. I swiftly backed away from the window.

This was beyond my knowledge. This looked like Dark Magic. Albus Dumbledore was the only man at the school who would know how to deal with this kind of situation.

Name: Professor Albus Dumbledore.

Position of occupation: Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Draco Malfoy's condition was quickly brought to my attention. It was Mr. Malfoy's second night in the infirmary and Poppy flooed into my office around midnight. She looked very distressed. I offered her a seat but she insisted on me coming with her to the infirmary, I, of course, obliged. When we arrived she pointed me towards the window. Mr. Malfoy was indeed glowing, but not as though there was light next him like a candle. The light was coming _out_ of him.

I quickly walked over to him. Hurriedly I cast some protective spells over myself and lent down to feel his pulse on his wrist. Mr. Malfoy was freezing and beginning to shake violently. I decided it was time to ask the person who was closest to Draco in the school.

Name: Professor Severus Snape.

Position of occupation: Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I have known Draco Malfoy since he was a very young boy. Only a very small handful of people around the boy actually know that he has a very deep-rooted reason to hate people around him. This is not for me to tell, although I can tell you about Draco's personality.

Draco realizes that the personality he produces to world is that of a horrid, spoilt brat, a child that has everything but wants more. He does it deliberately its not to make others jealous or to show off.

He is an actor.

He loves to watch people's reactions. Draco started in his first year. It's quite obsessive really. In that way he is really quite like his father. Both are obsessed with masks. Lucius wears many and Draco followed this.

Draco knew it was just going to be a bit of fun. Wasn't it? Lucius Malfoy would defend his son because of his powerful position as Chairman of the school governors. Draco also figured that I would help him out of any troubles he had.

Now don't you all start thinking that Draco is some kind of angel, he is far from it. He simply to his own personality and adjusted it, enhanced it one might say. During his second year Lucius got sacked from his position as school governor. During the summer holiday between his 2nd and 3rd year Draco decided he had become bored of his game but he realized something. He didn't know how he was going to revert to his normal personality.

Everybody now knew Draco as a conniving, arrogant little brat. Draco's little plan to fool everyone had severely backfired.

Name: Miss Narcissa Black

Position of occupation: (relativity to case) Mother of Draco Malfoy.

I remember the night before we, as a family, went to get Draco's school supplies for his first year. Draco behaved very oddly at dinner. He would go to pick something up, like the saltshaker or a piece of cutlery and suddenly drop it, as though he had done something wrong. Draco would then put on an expression as though he were scolding himself and pick up the item again. This second time his chin would be raised higher, his posturing arrogant and eyes expressionless. Lucius didn't notice of course, he was rather stressed. His father had become quite ill a week and a half before. Lucius, unlike most Malfoy men, was rather attached to his father. Lucius loved Abraxas and Abraxas loved him in return, or at least as much as he could. Abraxas was a Malfoy, which therefore meant a lot of responsibility.

None of which included family.

What had always made matters worse was that Lucius' mother had died when he was eight. Quite mysterious that was…

Name: Professor Albus Dumbledore.

Position of occupation: Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The day after Draco Malfoy's strange occurrence something odd happened. Nothing unusual happened for an entire week. Nothing. Then he began talking Parseltongue.

Name: Harry Potter

Position of occupation (relativity to case): Student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and a Parselmouth.

I was rather shocked when Dumbledore called me to the hospital wing to visit someone. Usually Dumbledore was being called to the hospital wing because of what I had done. When I arrive the hospital wing was empty. Then I felt drawn to a light coming from one the private room. There was only one.

Through the time I had been at Hogwarts I had been in there a few times (apparently). I was never actually conscious, usually it was when I'd done something 'great' and the tabloids wanted to know.

I headed over to the door slowly, it was opened a crack. From inside the room I could hear Draco Malfoy's voice. His tones were no longer cold or drawling but pained and though he were being tortured. Each word sounded like a hammer hitting glass.

"Release me from the pain!" Draco's voice rasped. "Please! Release me!"

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this revision. In the long term it will make far more sense!

Meow to you all!

Have a good week!

Bright Eyes


	2. Veritaserum Nightmares

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes (with capitals and 1 space in between)

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling. If it were mine it wouldn't have found its way out from under my bed and nobody would know its fantabulous tale!

Rating: PG (may go up or down depending on where it goes)

A/N this chapter is kind of reflecting Lucius' POV on the situation (like how HP reflects Harry's POV)

Also note that this story is about Draco…but to tell the story I have to start this chapter with Lucius.

AND The last chapter was meant to be a sort of Prologue…everything from now on PROBABLY won't be written in journal form anymore…though the journal my pop up again.

Chapter 2: Veritaserum Nightmares

The guard pushed Lucius into a metal chair, immediately chains coiled themselves around his arms and legs, incapacitating him.

The guard cared nothing for the Lord of the House of Malfoy.

Who would?

Who had sympathy for someone accused of Death Eater crimes?

"Are you Lucius Jareth Draconis Malfoy of the Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire?" Rang out the clear voice of Albus Dumbledore. His usually cheerful demeanour was now cold and unfeeling for the man sitting in the chained chair before him.

"Yes," replied Lucius, staring directly at the Cornelius Fudge. In a matter of days a new minister would be elected, such a shame… he'd miss out on rigging yet another election. Maybe Draco might take it into his own hands…how would all of his friends feel if they knew his son had rigged an election?

"How do you plea to the crimes against you, Mr Malfoy?" called Alastor Moody from the front of the Wizengamot. He could hear the joy in the ex-Auror's voice. He had sounded so joyous reading out the eight foot parchment they held Lucius' crimes. Not only were they Death Eater crimes but there was also corruption of the ministry and violation of the use of spells…the ministry didn't realize that there was much worse out there than Unforgivables.

Albus Dumbledore had called in Moody for the trials of the Death Eater's. 'Moody has 'experience in these sort of things',' said Auror who had dragged him to the courtroom had said. Lucius seethed with anger. Alastor Moody hated Death Eater's more than the average wizard. Why? If anything they'd done him a favour by him having to get a magical eye.

No hard feelings? Think again.

"How do you plea, Malfoy?" repeated Moody, his voice filling with the hatred he had previously tried to cover up with professionalism.

No such luck.

"Not guilty," drawled Lucius, shifting slightly in the chained chair. A dull mutter went through the Wizengamot.

Lucius' wintry gaze remained on Fudge, who was realising just what he'd dug himself into by fraternizing with the infamous Lucius Malfoy. Just when he'd begun to get everyone to believe Lucius wasn't like the rest of the Malfoy family.

Shame.

"Draconis Regulus Orion Malfoy, enter and stand before the Wizengamot for questioning," called Dumbledore, raising his hands towards the heavy wooden doors.

Lucius gave Fudge a last cold glare and turned as best he could towards his heir.

Trust Dumbledore to bring a sixteen-year-old into a court case.

Moody rose from his seat again and faced Draco, who was now standing to the right of the chained chair.

"Are you Draconis Regulus Orion Malfoy of the Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire?" he asked coldly. He had apparently managed to regain his calm composure.

Lucius felt slight relief that the real Alastor Moody had never actually met his son.

"Yes," replied Draco, his voice void of emotion. "I am."

Lucius eyed his heir critically. He hadn't been expecting for Draco to be involved with the case. What if he said something that would jeopardize not only Lucius but also himself and future generations.

So far Draco appeared fairly calm. His fair skin may have been a little paler than usual and his eyes slightly colder than usual but other than that –

Lucius looked over his son again. He was wearing blue. Dark blue but never the less it was blue.

Draco, like his father, had always been quite attached to black. It contrasted well with pale skin and silver hair and it didn't stand out in a crowd. Draco's hair was another difference. It hung loosely over his eyes instead of being slicked back of his face. The boy looked somewhat…angelic…

What a good public image! Narcissa must have had such fun dressing her son in something other than black.

Poor boy.

"Are you aware whether or not your father, Lucius Malfoy, is involved with Death Eater's?" questioned Albus Dumbledore with a slight sigh.

Why in the name of Merlin, would the boy answer a question like that? This was his father! As if he'd jeopardize his father in such a way!

Draco looked curiously around the dungeon a smile irking the corner of his mouth. "I don't know my father's friends or acquaintances very well. I've met them from time to time at dinner parties and such but I i never_ /i _can put a name to a face really." Draco looked wistful for a moment. "Really a shame that."

"Master Malfoy you didn't answer my question," said Dumbledore, peering over his gold-framed spectacles. "Does you father ever spend time with any Death Eater's?"

Draco began to pace before the large crowd of witches and wizards. "If you gave me a list of every convicted Death Eater in Europe I could probably answer that question," he replied, a brittle smile gracing his aristocratic features. "That is…if I could put a name to a face."

Dumbledore stared at the boy before him. He knew why he didn't get along with the Malfoys. Not just because they were a family of Dark Wizards but there had always been this logic that the Malfoys used that sent you in circles. Just when you thought they'd dug themselves into an impossibly deep hole, somebody threw them a silver ladder and a thousand galleons.

Malfoys.

Merlin, they were best left to their own devices.

"Master Malfoy," said Dumbledore wearily. "We do not have time for your childish games. If you do not answer questions properly we will have to give you Veritaserum. I'm sure you wouldn't like that, now would we?"

Draco blinked. "No, I believe we wouldn't," he drawled. "Legally you can't actually make myself, a minor, take such a potion."

Dumbledore looked over the boy. "How old are you, Master Malfoy?"

Draco eyed the older man carefully. "Seventeen in January," he replied coldly.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly, as they usually did when they had a plan. "You shall return on your birthday and questioning shall commence then."

Draco was beginning to shake slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.

"Until then Master Malfoy," Alastor Moody said with a smirk.

A/N: as they can legally do magic at 16 and finish school at 17/18 I decided that Veritaserum given by a court could be legal at 17…any suggestions? Reviews?

Love you all

0o Bright Eyes


	3. Conspiring Concoctions

Title: Hush Author: Bright Eyes (with capitals and 1 space in between) Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.  
Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling. If it were mine it wouldn't have found its way out from under my bed and nobody would know its fantabulous tale!  
Rating: PG (may go up or down depending on where it goes)  
Word Count: 1,311 A/N: Uh…this is my first time writing Snape, so I'm a bit nervous. Please give me Snape feedback on how he can be improved and if he sounds correct. I'm trying to make him very cold and uncaring even though Draco is going through a hard time…Snape knows that Draco is a strong person and should be able to cope…anyway… I also wish to say although I'm not bringing out this chapter as late as some people do but this could have been done earlier. Instead I have been at very long production rehearsals! Great fun! But very, very, draining.

Chapter 3: Conspiring Concoctions

Draco was stretched out on a three-seater couch in the Slytherin common room. A conspiring smirk gracing his pale features. Draco Malfoy was pleased and plotting. A good thing for him and his friends, but usually not for Gryffindors. "Draco"  
The conspiring smirk was instantly replaced with an aggravated scowl.  
"What, Pansy?" snapped Draco.  
Pansy's dropped onto Draco's stomach. Unfortunately for Draco, Pansy wasn't a very light girl.  
Draco gasped for air, his lungs seemingly crushed by the girl above him. "Get off Parkinson!" he gasped Pansy only settled herself more comfortably. "No, I'm quite comfortable where I am," she replied with a smile and reached towards his chest in a rather provocative position. "Don't you dare do what I think your going to do, Parkinson!" wheezed Draco. Pansy merely smirked and pulled Draco's wand out of his robe pocket and stood up. "Give my wand back, Pansy," drawled Draco. "I'm not in the mood for your games"  
"I want you to tell me what happened at the trial." Pansy smiled coldly. "You still haven't told any of us what happened. All of the papers say that it's to be continued at a later date"  
Draco shifted in his seat. "I'd rather "  
"– Mr Malfoy! I need to talk to you immediately!" interrupted the cold voice of the Potions Master. Draco turned his head towards the common room entrance. "I'm listening professor," drawled Draco and began to attempt wrestling his wand off Pansy. "MALFOY!" The professor's voice silenced the common room completely. "In my study. Immediately." With that he turned on heel back towards the potions rooms.  
Draco yanked his wand out of Pansy's hand and stalked after the professor. "And you thought you'd get away with this, Mr Malfoy?" Asked Snape, pacing behind his desk. He looked like an over sized bat or a raven, swooping over the heads of frightened onlookers. Only Draco wasn't frightened. "It'd be stupid to say yes, now, wouldn't it?" drawled Draco. His eyes wandered across the multiple shelves of pickled animals and plants that lined Snape's private study. It suited him perfectly. Dark, dreary and yet somewhat elegant without being too much so. So unlike the Malfoy Manor, which, in Draco's opinion, was far too abundant with Persian rugs and crystal chandeliers. On various occasions Draco could remember his father saying how he much preferred the dungeons to the main house, 'I flatly refused to let your mother touch them. They'd only end up pink and frilly'  
It was the first and last time Draco was to hear his father say 'pink and frilly'. "– poisoning a fellow student is a serious offence, Mr Malfoy! Not only your respect to the student body is dropping, during this past week I have seen a serious lapse in your respect towards me, boy," sneered the Potions Master cutting through Draco's thoughts. Draco opened his mouth to object. "Don't even attempt to talk your way out of this one"  
The young Malfoy nodded slightly, focusing on a particularly large jar. "Yes sir"  
Snape stopped pacing and sat down at his large, darkly stained desk. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he snapped. Draco raised his eyes to meet Snape's. "How could you –what in Merlin's name"  
It was the first time Draco had ever heard Professor Snape fumble a sentence. His speech was always perfectly eloquent.  
"What?" Drawled Draco. Inside he was desperately trying to conceal his thoughts by increasing his usually light shield of Occlumency. Unfortunately Snape, a well-trained Legimist, had already seen right through the light shield and straight to his thoughts before he could increase it. It was too late. Draco had opened his mind accidentally in frustration. The greasy haired professor gasped for breath at the amount of emotions and feelings he was seeing.  
And feeling. Draco too saw memories flashing before his eyes, but worst of all was the wave of emotions that came with it. Hatred Anger Sadness Grief Depression "Protego!" said Draco, his voice pained. Instantly the vision disappeared and Snape's study reappeared.  
The Potions Master ran a shaky, pallid hand through his long hair, picked up a feather quill and began writing with fervor on a long roll of parchment. Draco simply sat there silently looking ashen. His hands were trembling in his lap. What had Snape seen? Had he seen the same things as him or had he only seen more fragmented pieces? Finally Snape looked up and handed the parchment to Draco.  
Draco rolled it up and put it in his pocket next to his wand.  
"I'd prefer you to read that now, Mr Malfoy," said Snape quietly, obviously still quite shaken. Draco eyed the parchment, which was quite clearly a potion formula. A three foot long potion formula.  
"What's it for?" he asked dully. Snape glared at him with pitiless eyes. "You will make this potion during your detentions with me after dinner every night for a fortnight"  
Draco nodded and scowled sullenly. "And what is it called? There was no name on it." Snape scowled and snatched the parchment out of Draco's hands. "I am not allowing you to know the name of this potion. It can be misused by those who do not know its full potential," he spat, his cold, black eyes narrowing viciously.  
"Then why not educate me on this potion?" drawled Draco. "Or do you really think I'm stupid enough to take potions that I don't know that full effect of"  
"You're only sixteen, Draco," hissed Snape, glowering at Draco. "The average sixteen year old will only look at the top of the page and see an enticing heading to cure all of their adolescent quandaries – "  
"– then test me," interrupted Draco, his eyes bright with fervour. "You think I'm an average, run of the mill, adolescent. If you're so sure, then test me"  
Severus Snape's eyes narrowed. "Fine," he snarled. "What was the thirty second ingredient listed?" He sneered slightly.  
Draco's eyes went unfocused for a moment. "Mugwort," he said slowly, a broad smirk on his lips.  
Snape looked down at the parchment in front of him. "Correct, Malfoy," he said coldly. "What was the fourteenth process?" he ground out between clenched teeth.  
"Stir in the beetle wings and wolfsbane, but leave half of the wings for the twentieth step." Draco blinked, losing information rapidly. "Do you want me to tell you the twentieth step, Professor?" he asked brightly.  
Snape glared coldly at Draco. "Spare me the Granger act and your insolence Malfoy. I know you're an actor," he sneered.  
Draco shifted into a more comfortable position in his chair. "You don't have to rub it in," he said coldly and rubbed his temples. "I get enough of that from mother. You know, for the first time ever she actually encouraged me…it was right before the trial: 'Draco, darling how about I dress you in these lovely blue robes for the trial. You'll look so sweet compared to that ugly black you're so attached too." Draco snorted slightly and raised himself up from his chair. "Is that it, Sir? Detention for the next fortnight"  
Snape eyed the boy for a moment. "No. I also wish to talk to you more often. The amount of emotions you had built up inside you, Mr Malfoy was quite worrying." And the negativity of them too , he though to himself. "I have never met anyone who has been able to keep that level of an emotional state and not end up in St. Mungo's. It is truly remarkable you have been able to keep a steady face through these hard time"  
Draco looked down at the heavy signet ring on his right hand. "I'm guessing that's not a compliment," sighed Draco. "It depends who you are," sneered Snape.

A/N: Okay. My spacing has stuffed up on this site. That's really annoyed me… hope you enjoyed it! R&R!

Happy reading!  
Bright Eyes 


	4. Silver Shadows Part I

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes (At some sites I'm known as Shining Bright Eyes)

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.

Word Count: 1,437

Disclaimer: Look. The title of this story is 'Hush'. Not 'Harry Potter'. Unless JK Rowling suddenly decided to change her name to Bright Eyes, moved country, went back to school and started posting her stories on fanfiction sites, I don't believe I'm her or that her work belongs to me. The only think I own is the talking mirror. It's my friend.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I really have no excuse! I've just been helping Shayla write her HBP fic and have been writing some one-shots. Also note that from now on this story will probably be AU from the 6th book but there may be some similarities, characters and such. I've just got to see how I go.

Dedicated to Shayla. Cos she lets me write Draco in her HBP story. )

Thankyou! Now on with the show!

Chapter Four: Silver Shadows

Excerpt from a record book of:

_ i The Balance of Power of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry i/ _

_ i 24th of December, 1997. i/ _

_ i Headmaster i/ _

_ i Albus Dumbledore i/ _

i There has been a bizarre increase of power throughout the school. It seems to travel, so I assume it must be that of a student. The only student I could possibly think who would have gained such power would be Harry Potter, but this does not add up. I have discussed the issue with Mr. Potter. When he informed the staff (and I thoroughly tested) that he was not the source. I questioned Harry on whom he was suspicious of. Unfortunately no names came to mind. There was (of course) the usual suspects such as the Slytherins, in particular young Master Malfoy and the usual suspicion of Severus Snape, which I immediately dismissed, because of the concerns that they might cause. Despite what I said to young Potter I do realise that the Slytherins are the only students at Hogwarts who could have access to such power. I will request Severus to keep a close eye on them. i/ 

Draco took another deep breath and focused his energy on the large intricately carved, porcelain vase in front of him. The wards he had set up around the Room of Requirement crackled with the energy he was expelling. The air was thick with tension and power.

It was getting worse.

It was an incontrollable power that was bubbling higher and higher within the young Malfoy. Every day it was threatened to break free.

Anyone else would have gone to a teacher and alerted them of the problem.

A Gryffindor would make a fuss about it.

A Ravenclaw would research it for extra credit.

A Hufflepuff would tell their friends, treating it like gossip.

All would eventually tell a teacher, but Draco, being a Slytherin would harness it.

Draco had decided he would tame it.

Control it.

Control was something that Draco always maintained. A lesson passed from father to son over centuries worth of generations of Malfoys.

Draco rose from his position on the cold, stone floor. He swayed slightly and his head pounded a terrible tattoo. Despite the effects that this Dark power was having on the young man Draco rose to his feet confident that he could leave the well-warded room without being a peril to the outside world.

Well, more of a peril than he usually was.

Draco headed down to the Slytherin Common Room. He glanced at his silver wristwatch. Curfew ended in a few minutes and he still had an extensive Transfiguration assignment to deal with as punishment for not completing his previous assignment about Animagi. Who needed Transfiguration anyway? It was only useful to wizards who were poor and needed more furniture.

"Gloria Draconis," drawled Draco as he reached the entrance to the Slytherin. Footsteps behind him echoed loudly and Draco turned to see if it were someone worth his time.

Pansy Parkinson trotted towards him, a smirk planted firmly on her pink lipstick smeared lips.

"I just heard the funniest thing about – Draco your eyes!" gasped Pansy, grabbing onto his arm, incidentally pulling him closer towards her.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Hm?" asked the tall blond sharply. His headache was already getting the better of him and now he had Pansy Parkinson thinking his eyes looked funny.

"They're shining…they're silver!" squeaked Pansy. "Was it a spell or a potion? Oh please tell me! They're just beautiful! All shiny and glowing! I tried this Cinderella – "

Draco froze and instinctively clapped his hands over his eyes.

" – They're…silver?" interrupted Draco, slowly lowering his hands.

Pansy nodded enthusiastically. "Much better than they're usual grey. They're so pale and bland, like a rainy day," (she sighed for effect). "Can you change it to blue? I'd so wish to have blue eyes…they'd look nice on you as well…"

"Uh…its special…but I'm just testing it…they weren't meant to glow," said Draco quickly, looking at the damp stone floor.

Pansy blinked. "So it went wrong?" she asked slowed, pulling at a lock of her straight brown hair.

Draco nodded quickly, his eyes still focused on the floor. "Yes, I was just trying out a glamour charm if ever I was going to…sneak around…or do something to…the Gryffindors."

"Oh that's so clever Draco!" she cried, her eyes now showing any of the enthusiasm her voice was. She was like a muggle robot…whatever that was.

Voices started echoing from the end of the corridor. Blaise Zabini and Malcolm Baddock were heading toward the Common Room.

Without another word, Draco raced into the Common Room and up the stairs towards his Dormitory. He silently cast several locking spells on the doors and ran to the closest mirror. His eyes glowed steadily silver in the dim light of the room.

"What happened to you, love?" asked the mirror soothingly. "You're all hot an sweaty…your father would never have been seen in this state when he was here. Abraxus wouldn't approve either. And what's happened to your eyes?"

Draco glared at the mirror. "How, in the name of Merlin, am I going to explain this to mother?" asked Draco softly. "How am going to explain it to anyone?"

"Oh, darling!" sighed the mirror. "Don't fret! You just need a simple concealing potion! Just go to Professor Snape. I do feel sorry for his mirror… the poor thing. I think she said he's in his chambers."

Draco nodded and set off towards the door, and paused. "Why would Snape's mirror be a 'poor thing'?" he asked curiously.

"You would be to if you had to look at hair like that all the time," replied the mirror sadly. "Poor Dorris."

Draco raced down the stairs before the mirror could get another word in, briefly wondering if Granger was thinking of starting MUTE: Mirrors United from Treatment of Evil. ie bad hair.

Draco raised a hand to knock on the entrance to Snape's study and paused. What would he tell the professor? Well sir, for the past month I think I'm a, either being possessed by an unknown dark force or b, currently becoming a brilliantly powerful dark wizard. Oh, and by the way there's a whole lot of objects in the Room of Requirement that are dangerously unstable because I transferred a whole lot of dark power into them. Do be careful with them, they could blow up at any moment. Meanwhile I'm going to go have tea and crumpets!

Draco was shaken out of his reverie by Snape's door bursting and somebody running out. The look on their face clearly stated that they never wanted to go back.

"Watch it!" shot Draco instantly.

Draco looked up to see Harry Potter staring his in the eye. "Watch it yourself, Malfoy," replied Harry, looking startled. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

Draco sneered, "None of your business, Potter," he drawled coldly.

"Mr. Potter," said a sneering voice from behind Harry. "That will be five points from Gryffindor for carelessly opening a door in such a manner. I do believe that Muggles have doors, am I correct in this presumption, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, Sir," ground out Harry.

"Then I see no reason for you not to understand how to use them," smirked Snape, his cold eyes glittering darkly. "Now be gone Potter, I will not make excuses for you if Mr Filch catches you out of your Common Room after curfew."

Harry walked quickly toward the Great Hall, looking back once to glare at Draco.

"Now Malfoy, what is it that you wish to talk to me about?" sneered Snape.

Draco shuffled restless, focusing on the well polished leather of his shoes, his fair hair blocking his eyes from view.

"Mr Malfoy, is there a particular reason for us to be conversing in a draughty passage, or shall we head into my office?"

Draco nodded slightly. "Yes, sir," he murmured, following Snape into his dimly lit office. He could vaguely see the professor sit down and did the same.

"What is the problem, Mr Malfoy? I've never seen you behaving like this before," said Snape softly.

"I – " began Draco.

" – when we are having a conversation, Mr Malfoy, we tend to make eye contact with whom we are speaking to," interrupted Snape. "I know for a fact, your father spent a small fortune on etiquette lessons for you."

Draco gathered his courage and faced the Professor, pulling his hair of his face as he did so.

Snape's pallid face was a mixture of emotions as he looked into Draco's glowing eyes.

"So its you Mr Malfoy."

'Gloria Draconis' is Latin for 'Glory to the serpent'. Whereas in the books the Gryffindors had 'Caput Draconis', which meant 'Behead the Serpent'. Quite fitting if you ask me!

Also a very big thanks to my reviewers (now appearing in alphabetical order):

Andie, bright eyes no#1 fan, bub, Charlie, Cinderella, Dauntra, dododo, dude, ella, Freddo, garble, gumby, jake, jellyman, jojo, Jonno, lily4eva, Megan, Queen Potter, Shayla, somethingmysterious, Steph, talalah, Til and yellow

And last but definitely not least: Debbie. My first ever reviewer. Thankyou so much. Don't worry I love all of the rest of you but its like…you know…the one that let me know my story was okay for human consumption.

I don't know what I'd do without you all!

Thankyou all! Feedback, constructive criticism, all that jazz, are welcome.

Bright Eyes


	5. Silver Shadows Part II

Title: Hush Author: Bright Eyes (Or Shining Bright Eyes) Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.  
Word Count: Disclaimer: The most Harry Potter I own is a double sided poster given to me by one of my friends, copies of the six books, Quiddich through the ages, Fantastic Beasts and the DVDs of the movies. If I were JK Rowling I'd also have the Seventh Book. I don't. I only own my mirror. Janos (who I forgot to mention earlier) belongs to Foodie and Elfflame. I apologize for forgetting to site it earlier, but I only realized after re-reading that I'd slipped it in. A/N: I need to make a very big apology. In my last post I thanked all of my reviewers and especially my first reviewer Debbie. I don't know how I did it but my first reviewer was Flobberworm. If you took any offence I apologize humbly.  
Thankyou! Now on with the show!

Chapter Five: Silver Shadows Part II

Draco gathered his courage and faced the Professor, pulling his hair of his face as he did so. Snape's pallid face was a mixture of emotions as he looked into Draco's glowing eyes. "So its you Mr Malfoy."

A bedroom. Not a perfectly ordinary bedroom, mind you. Serpents were carved into marble walls, winding, twisted and writhing up endlessly up to the arching ceiling. In the centre of the bedroom there was an ebony bed. Centuries old, it was believed it had once been owned by a wizarding Prince, a type of royalty, now forgotten. Half bloods and those of even lower status could not understand the importance of tradition and royalty. Yes, they may have their royal families, the English, the Danish… but the power they held was nothing compared to the power that the Royal Wizarding family once held. One family to rule all wizards of all nations.  
Beneath silk sheets lay a teenager, his aquiline nose and pointed chin, perfect examples of centuries of inter-pureblood breeding.  
A sharp hoot from an owl jolted the boy sharply awake. 

Draco shifted slightly, his eyes opening a crack. He appeared to by lying on a leather couch, entangled in a long woollen cloak. The surroundings consisted of dark, cold furniture. A fireplace burned a steady blue on the wall parallel. The room was sparse. It had a feeling of desolation, as though no one lived there. It was merely a room; it had no signs of life, no homely touches that rooms like this should gain. Without warning Draco began shivering violently, cold seemed to encase him like his own personal blizzard. At that moment the fireplace burnt a dazzling white.  
"Are you awake, Mr Malfoy?" asked a smooth voice from the fireplace. "You gave me quite a scare passing out like that"  
Draco's attempted to sit up. "N-no I-I di-di-dn't," stuttered Draco between chattering teeth, falling back into the silk cushions surrounding him. Malfoy's never fainted.  
Snape raised an eyebrow at his student as he stepped off the hearth. "Have you been in such a state since this imbalance came about"  
The teenager looked confused and began to shake more violently. "N-n-po-wer-r-r," stuttered Draco incoherently, his glowing eyes rolling back into his head.  
Snape immediately straightened from his slightly hunched position and strode over towards the boy lying on his couch, brushing soot of his person as he went.  
"Malfoy, look at me," demanded his professor. Draco continued shaking and stuttering, completely oblivious to the world around him.  
"Enervate!" commanded Snape tersely. Nothing changed. "Enervate Quadri!" Still Draco continued to shake, every second becoming more violent. "Draco!" he called, grabbing onto his student's arm.  
The pale teenager's eyes shot open, glowing brighter than before. "A new Lord shall rise, more powerful than his predecessors. One to destroy the one who's Flight from Death left him incomplete. One to rule the Dark and Destroy the Light." Draco's voice was that of a grown man. It was his father's voice. A voice that one day, would belong to Draco. It was a voice that commanded power and respect. Snape's empty eyes narrowed in shock as Draco came out of his trance, completely unharmed. He appeared seemingly unaware of what he had just said. "Just keep this between you and me, hmm?" whispered Draco as he rose from the leather couch with a smirk. The Professor snapped out of his shock, hand reaching for his wand. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Draco," sneered Snape coolly.  
"Obliviate."

A/N Shorter than usual but that's just the way it worked out. Next chapter time will have moved forward a lot…I just couldn't put this in the last chapter! Hope you enjoyed it. Especially Zaphira who is on a camp! Hope you're having a great time! 


	6. Fatal Affiliation

Title: Hush Author: Bright Eyes (Or Shining Bright Eyes) Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.  
Word Count: 1220 Disclaimer: What the difference between JK Rowling and me? Well she gets paid and I don't. It's not mine and never will be (but wouldn't it be wicked if it was)  
A/N: This would have been out sooner but I had food poisoning the two weeks before Christmas. So did Shayla… I'm sorry I didn't get my Christmas fic out but I became rather uninspired and I couldn't get my idea's across properly. I had been doing a lot of editing for Shayla and my HBP fic (check out the second half of Draco's Detour…I wrote some of it!). I hope you all had a great Christmas! This is a late Christmas present for you all! 

Chapter Six: Fatal Affiliation

The Professor snapped out of his shock, hand reaching for his wand. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Draco," sneered Snape coolly.  
"Obliviate"  
Draco smiled almost pitifully as the Potions Professor slumped limply to the ground. Although he had been a rather useful ally in the past, Severus Snape was a traitor of the Dark Side. Simply being his favourite student at a school was not nearly enough to gain his support. With one last glance at the Professor, Draco strode over to the ornate snake-entwined fireplace. As expected, there was a jar of flame red fire-talk powder and another of glittering green floo powder. "The Drawing Room, Malfoy Manor," called Draco as he threw the glittering green powder into the radiant flames. 

Draco fell to his knees on a priceless white Persian rug, choking on a mouthful of ash. Glancing around warily, he quickly registered that no one was in the room. "Mother," drawled Draco as he drew himself up from the floor, his voice echoing on the arched ceiling. "Quintus"  
Although the manor rose four storeys, not including attic and dungeons, no family members or guests had to raise their voice to signal a servant. That was simply far to Muggle for the likes of the Malfoys.  
Striding out into the main foyer, the young man's patience thinned. Draco's radiating eyes flickered towards the two main staircases leading to the second storey of the manor. Something black and silver flashed along the highly polished ebony banister.  
"Who's there?" demanded Draco in a tone reminiscent of his father. "I demand you show yourself! If that's you Tibby I swear you won't work another day in your life!" he continued confidently, while drawing his wand. "It'll be clothes for you, you little runt – "  
" – Stupefy!" Draco instinctively ducked. "Expelliarmus!" he replied rapidly.  
His aim must have been accurate, as an ebony wand, almost identical to his own, flew into his hand. On further inspection, the wand had his father's initials engraved on the base and the handle was entwined with serpents forming the letter 'M'. His father's wand, passed down from his father when he turned eighteen. "Father's wand… what is this?" murmured Draco, a half smirk formed on his lips as he gazed at the dark wood.  
"Who are you and why do you have my father's wand?" drawled Draco coolly, his glowing eyes narrowed dangerously.  
A familiar laugh sounded from the landing.  
"Or do both of my questions have the same answer?" smirked the young blonde and quickly turned away from the voice.  
"I believe you are correct, Draconis," drawled a near identical voice.  
Lucius Malfoy strode down the stairs toward his son, who face was hidden in the shadow of the hood of his school robes.  
The elder Malfoy was dressed in formal silk robes of black and green, lined with silver. A bronze serpent – clearly a family heirloom – held his father's heavy travelling cloak together. "Now what are you doing here instead of Hogwarts?" he drawled and examined his silver pocket watch. "It's half eleven"  
Draco cocked an eyebrow and smirked slightly, his eyes remained hidden in the shadow of his cloak. "I could ask you the same question, father"  
Lucius' face hardened slightly and then broke into a broad smirk. "A few donations in the right pockets set the Ministry straight. They forgot that without my paper, there would be uproar. People don't often realise the power of reading a text… how many people believe what you are writing. The Ministry found that out the hard way, with a few texts on their security measures"  
Lucius Malfoy was the owner of the Daily Prophet. It was a control tool, something Lucius was fully adept at using. The public believed everything it said and the Ministry had to listen to the public. "Now Draco, why are you here"  
Draco paled and swayed slightly as he opened his mouth to answer. His head was beginning to throb like it had when he woke up in Snape's chambers.  
"I… wiped Severus Snape's memory… of something I did," replied Draco unsteadily. He winced slightly and rubbed at an invisible spot just above his right eye.  
"You did what?" whispered Lucius, his voice gaining a sharp edge that could cut through steel. "What offence did you commit that was so… heinous that you had to perform a charm, that might I remind you, can be fatal or induce permanent damage if performed incorrectly?" Slowly, Draco lowered his hood and raised his eyes to face his father. "This," he replied dully.  
Lucius' eyes narrowed slightly. "What time did you cast the memory charm on Severus Snape?" he asked stiffly.  
"At most… five minutes ago, father," replied Draco quietly, rubbing his temples as he did.  
"My wand, Draco," murmured Lucius, nodding to the sleek wood in Draco's hand. Draco handed the slender, dark wood to his father, hand trembling slightly as he did so.  
"Protegi Manor!" commanded Lucius, his wand vertical and held high above his head.  
At these words a brilliant flash enclosed the manor. Draco blinked as the bright light faded.  
"What was that?" asked Draco quietly as he grabbed the edge of the banister for support.  
"That is so the manor is impenetrable," sneered Lucius. "You, on the other hand will need a lot more than a spell to protect you"  
Draco gripped the banister for dear life and hunched over slightly as a pain like no other ripped through his body. His father's strong hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him to full height. "Draconis," said Lucius commandingly, looking deep into his only child's luminous eyes. "Tell me the Prophecy. Tell me what you heard"  
A loud bang came from the entrance doors.  
Draco's legs gave way beneath him and he fell forward onto his father.  
Lucius supported his son toward one of the sprawling dragon hide couches.  
"Let us in Malfoy!" called a voice from the other side of the door. "It's the Ministry! We've got a warrant to allow a raid of the premises"  
Draco stared across at his father from his slouched position, who was sitting on a high backed velvet chair.  
"I'm taming it father," whispered Draco deliriously. "The Prophecy spoke of a new Dark Lord… that Lord shall rise, more powerful than his predecessors. One to destroy the one who's Flight from Death left him incomplete. One to rule the Dark and Destroy the Light… it shall be me"  
Lucius' eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you want this, Draco?" he asked quietly.  
"That's it, Malfoy!" shouted the voice from behind the front doors. "You've left us no choice"  
"Reducto!" roared several voices instantaneously. The wards around the manor shuddered violently. They wouldn't hold, the Head of the House of Malfoy could feel it. The Manor was surrounded. "Let's try again," called a gruff voice. "The wards are weakening"  
"I want it, father… I wish to unleash it," whispered Draco, his voice trembling and his mind on the verge of falling into unconsciousness yet again that night.  
Lucius reached for his son's hand and stared hard at him. "Unleash the power that has built up inside you, Draco. Release it!" he whispered sharply.  
"REDUCTO!" bellowed the officials outside.  
"Protego," murmured Draco, his eyes rolling back into his head, his pale hand gripping his father's tightly.

A/N: Did the charm work? What's Lucius on about? How does our senior Malfoy know everything? So mysterious! Well, now Draco's met up with Lucius things should start rolling! The plot should really start moving as we go on and there should be less time breaks. Questions, constructive criticism, feedback and even praise if you're feeling generous are much appreciated! 


	7. Fickle Foes

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes (Or Shining Bright Eyes)

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.

Word Count: 1,225

Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I wouldn't have a computer that wouldn't start up 3 times…then my dad turned it on and it worked…embarrassing.

A/N: For the moment time isn't going to jump around as much as it has been previously. I hope you all appreciate that! Oh and a huge thanks to Shayla for the edit!

Chapter 7: Fickle Foes

Lucius reached for his son's hand and stared hard at him. "Unleash the power that has built up inside you, Draco. Release it!" he whispered sharply.

"REDUCTO!" bellowed the officials outside.

"Protego," gasped Draco, his eyes rolling back into his head, his pale hand gripping his father's tightly.

"HOOT!"

Draco Malfoy sat bolt upright. Despite his dark surroundings, his vision swum dangerously and he felt his head spin from the sudden movement. As his vision reassembled itself it became clear he wasn't in his Slytherin Dormitory.

He was in his room at the manor after passing out from an overload of his wonderful new power.

"HOOT!" repeated the disembodied bird.

Squinting in the half darkness Draco finally came across the source of the noise. A handsome black owl with a cruel sharp beak was seated at the end of his four-poster bed.

"Are you my wake up call?" asked Draco snidely. "The sun's not even risen!"

The owl impatiently stuck out one sharply clawed foot and ruffled its feathers impatiently. "HOOT!"

Draco glared at the owl and retrieved the letter attached. A quick glance at the seal showed the letter was from his father and had been sent only moments before, as the wax was still warm.

The letter read:

i Draco,

Return to school immediately. I don't wish to hear your petty arguments or excuses.

The Ministry will be swarming over the manor in a matter of minutes. I don't know if you remember what occurred last night so let me give you a brief reminder: Whatever is wrong with you caused you to perform wandless magic. It killed (Draco noted that the letter didn't say 'he' killed) fourteen Ministry Officials who were attempting to perform a raid of the estate. You then passed out – /i 

'passed out,' thought Draco bitterly. There were very few things his father wouldn't allow and unconsciousness was one of them. "A Malfoy shall remain composed at all times". With a last sneer Draco returned to the letter.

i – from exhaustion moments later.

When you return to school it would be prudent to inform your fellow Slytherins that you retired early owing to a migraine. If anyone is suspicious of you, I placed a ring in your school cloak that will cause those suspicious of you to become confused much like the Confundus Charm. It will also defend you from Veritaserum and other such potions. Along with the ring you will find a potion to prevent the unusual episode that occurred last night as well as the glowing of your eyes.

If anyone, whether it be student or staff, questions you of my whereabouts last night, reply that you do not know and you believe I am currently out of the country on business.

The ring will double as a portkey.

Do not disobey my instruction.

Father /i 

Within a matter of minutes Draco found himself in front of his mirror in his private bedroom of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Everything was how it should be: freshly made four-poster bed in Slytherin colours; writing desk littered with parchment; tapestries re-enacting Salazar Slytherin's Greatest Achievements adorning the walls; and on his nightstand, a decanter and glass which conjured up whatever the drinker desired.

A glance at his watch told him that it was 7 o'clock.

"Perfect timing," murmured Draco, adjusted his silver and green tie.

A small knock resonated from his door.

"Just a moment!" said Draco sharply and felt around in his robe pocket for his ring. No one ever called at this time of the morning. He was always the first Slytherin in the common room, being the only one who had been lectured from age five, of the importance of punctuality.

"Got you," hissed Draco with a satisfied smirk, examining the band next to his signet ring. It was a plain platinum band. The only sign of it being anything special was that it glowed a very pale green if scrutinized closely.

In one fluid motion he swallowed the potion his father had also left him that morning and proceeded towards the door.

"In!" drawled Draco, drawing himself up to full height and bracing himself for the worst as the door swung open.

Pansy Parkinson stood before him, leaning casually on the doorframe.

"Where were you," she asked sweetly, twirling a piece of short dark hair between her fingers. "I thought you were going to help me and the girls practice for that charms test next week. And Gregory and Vincent certainly need the help."

"I never said anything of the sort, Pansy," said Draco evenly and raised a sharp eyebrow. "Why do you want to know where I was anyway?"

"I never saw you come back in…" sniffed Pansy. "You didn't say goodnight to me."

Draco stiffened slightly at Pansy's weak excuse. "Tell me the truth," he demanded in a voice as much like his father's as he could muster.

"Nobody was supposed to be at Malfoy Manor last night," whispered Pansy coolly. "But how could this be? House elves are incapable of killing… you know that as well as I do, Draco."

Draco had known for a very long time that Pansy Portia Parkinson wasn't just a… pretty face. She was the ideal spy, but unfortunately it was highly difficult to identify where her alliance lay.

With a perfectly manicured hand, Pansy placed a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet in Draco's hands, lingering slightly too long and then withdrawing slowly.

With a flick of his wrist the parchment unfolded into a scene that Draco knew well… but had never seen it in such a state.

The front gardens of Malfoy Manor looked as they always had, clean and fresh, but there was blood…it could have been paint that a contemporary artist had splattered…everywhere. But Draco knew better than that, he knew what had happened last night. A slight feeling of nausea crept into his stomach. Blood… there was so much blood… and it was on his hands.

Tearing his eyes away from the gruesome picture Draco forced his eyes toward the article. What had the ministry made of this affair? Were they placing the blame on his father?

i MYSTERIOUS FORCE OVERCOMES MINISTRY OFFICIALS AT MALFOYS MANOR IN WILTSHIRE.

DEATH TOLL: 6

INJURED: 16

A simple raid on the Malfoy residence last night has left a large portion of the ministry in devastation.

It is believed that the majority of the deaths were the Officials who had stood at the North side (Front) of the building. The cause of death is still unknown but many of the injured say that a silvery light emanated from the windows of the front rooms second before the disaster.

"It was the strangest thing," said Auror Dawlish, a witness to the incident. "No one was coming to the doors, we believed that someone was home and didn't want to let us in. We used the 'reductor' spell to break through… and then it happened… indescribable." /i 

"Well?" asked Pansy impatiently. "What happened last night?"

Draco looked up from the paper and glared into the girl's gleaming eyes. "Leave me alone Parkinson. Stay away from me," hissed Draco. He was beginning to feel slightly dizzy and the nausea hadn't left him either.

"Dangerous times Pansy Parkinson. These are dangerous times," sneered Draco.

A/N: There! I actually finished it! Chapter 7! I'm starting a banner business (mainly Malfoy banners) so I've been working that out… who like my new banner?

I'm trying to get a chapter out per month…so far I've been succeeding! I know they're not very long but I do try… I DO!

Please Review!

Bright Eyes


	8. Pansy Parkinson’s Precious Pet

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes (Or Shining Bright Eyes)

Summary:

Word Count: 1,214

Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling I would have gone to her masquerade ball. Unfortunately I didn't and there for I am not her.

A/N: I sincerely apologise for the delay. I really wanted this chapter to come out sooner but school delayed me. PLEASE READ THE REVISED CHAPTER 1!

I would just like to note that despite the upcoming Hermione POV this story is NOT going to be a D/Hr. I do read some D/Hr but I really can't write romance all that well. I'm just saving you the disappointment now… PLEASE READ THE REVISED CHAPTER 1!

Chapter 8: Pansy Parkinson's Precious Pet

"Well?" asked Pansy impatiently. "What happened last night?"

Draco looked up from the paper and glare into the girl's gleaming eyes. "Leave me alone Parkinson. Stay away from me," hissed Draco. He was beginning to feel slightly dizzy and the nausea hadn't left him either. "Dangerous times Pansy Parkinson. These are dangerous times," sneered Draco.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!" called Professor McGonagall, her voice laced with undisguised annoyance.

Hermione Granger glanced at Draco Malfoy for a moment and then turned back to her notes. Considering he was sitting behind her in Transfiguration, he had been surprisingly quiet. He was never one to miss a chance to call her a 'Mudblood' or make other scornful remarks about her blood relations.

"If you can not pay attention, in this simple exercise, Mr Malfoy, I will be forced to - "

"Hermione!" whispered the voice of Ron Weasley voice from the seat beside her.

"What?" she hissed back not turning away from the formidable Professor.

"Look at Malfoy! He looks really odd," replied Ron gleefully.

She glanced a Ron whose face was lit up with delight and directed a slightly frustrated expression and turned back around to the scene of Professor McGonagall berating Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy's expression was completely empty, almost as though he had withdrawn into himself. His grey eyes, usually filled a cold hatred were now empty like a boarded up house and his face seemed to have reached a new level of pallor.

" – Miss Granger I am talking to Mr Malfoy, I'm quite sure we don't require you observing us," the Transfiguration Professor said sharply, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.

"Yes, Professor," replied Hermione quietly. Despite turning back to her work, her thoughts never wandered from the Slytherin at the desk behind her.

Breakfast had been a rather quiet affair at the Slytherin table of late It had recently been lacking Draco Malfoy making plans for revenge against Gryffindors and his other enemies alike

"Oh!" gasped Pansy Parkinson. "Draco, I – Oh you poor thing!'

Draco continued to stare down as his untouched French toast as seemingly oblivious to Pansy's words.

"Draco!" exclaimed Pansy. Her eyes were narrowed in frustration as she gently shook Draco's arm. "I know you've been down lately…and I don't want you to be even more upset but… you really should listen to me."

"He hasn't just been down. He's been completely out," muttered Blaise Zabini to Millicent Bulstrode who nodded hurriedly, hanging of his every word.

Pansy pushed Draco's plate aside and replaced it with a copy of the Daily Prophet that was open at the obituaries.

"I know you were fond of him, Draco," whispered Pansy quietly and patted him on the back soothingly. She pointed towards the cursive text that read 'Abraxas Draco Malfoy'. "I didn't know you were named after him… your father must have been quite fond of him…"

Draco continued to stare at the place where is breakfast had been sitting. His empty eyes didn't quite focus on the writing before them.

Pansy took Draco's pale and nearly lifeless hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Why don't you floo your father? I'm sure he'd want to talk to you right now. He must be I awfully i/ upset. Abraxas gave you your ring didn't he?"

Pansy stroked the ornate Slytherin heirloom that resided on Draco's right hand.

Blaise Zabini leaned across the table and pulled at a limp strand of Draco's hair.

Pansy looked vehemently at Blaise for a moment and then flattened Draco's white-blond hair back down.

"Don't touch his hair. It took me ages to do this morning. He kept falling forward like a rag doll. He's going through a tough time, Blaise," she whispered as though not wanted Draco to hear.

Blaise narrowed his blue eyes. "He can't hear you. He can't understand you. He hasn't responded to anything since he went missing the day Snape got sent to the hospital wing. Yet you keep dragging him around like he's a toy! For the first time in your life he's not pushing you away. When he snaps out of this he's going to be disgusted that you were hanging off him for a week." He sneered disgustedly and took a sip of his tea.

Pansy sniffed slightly. "He's i listening i/ to me, Blaise."

"I'm taking him to, Snape," said Blaise. His voice making it clear that there would be no argument. "Crabbe. Goyle."

The two hulking teenagers looked up.

"We're taking Malfoy to see Snape."

After Crabbe and Goyle got Draco up, he seemed to start walking on his own accord. It was simply a matter of Crabbe and Goyle shoving him in the right direction. Pansy kept trying to pry Draco from his safe shelter between the two heavy boys with no success.

"Pansy, give up," sneered Blaise as he strode ahead of the group, his dark hair gleaming in the torchlight of the dungeons. "If you truly care for him you'll let us take care of this."

"Blaise!" whined Pansy, still trying to release her Draco.

"Pansy!" mimicked Blaise. "If you don't shut up this instant I'm going to hex you!"

Pansy remained quite until they reached the potion professor's office door.

A look of realisation suddenly dawned on Pansy's face. "He's still in the hospital wing, Blaise," smirked the Slytherin girl triumphantly. "We'll just have to take Draco back to the common room."

Blaise narrowed slightly angular eyes. "I don't know why you're a Slytherin, Pansy. Cunning? Wit? Both of those features are those that you severely lack. Professor Snape returned from the hospital wing this morning."

"Indeed I did," said a silky voice from the shadows of the dungeon corridor. "Now what seems to be the matter with Mr Malfoy? He doesn't quite seem to be himself…"

"Professor," said Blasie evenly. "Might I come into your office with Draco to discuss this matter?"

The potions professor moved into the light, eerie shadows were thrown across his face making him look more pallid that usual. "Indeed. Miss Parkinson, Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle, off to your classes."

Pansy looked momentarily outraged. "I – "

Only to have the door to Professor Snape's office slam in her face.

"Mr Zabini, Mr Malfoy?" Asked Professor Snape. His black eyes darted around his office, checking that everything was still in place since he had left.

"Sir, it's Draco. He's been behaving quite unusually," said Blaise quietly. "Ever since the night that you went to the hospital wing. We're quite concerned."

"Has he just been…empty? Like he is now," questioned the professor and took a seat in the high backed chair behind his desk. "Sit down."

"Yes, sir," nodded Blaise and sat down in an identical chair, gently tugged on Draco's sleeve to make him follow. "He can barely do anything by himself…some professors have been getting quite upset. He hasn't been able to complete homework or go to Quiddich practice… Pansy has been completely obsessed. She even did his homework." He finished, looking completely disgusted.

Snape nodded carefully, rubbing his temples. "I hate to do this, especially to a student like Draco. I'm afraid we'll have to isolate him in the hospital wing until he either improves…or his parents take him home for the Christmas holidays."

A/N: The events of the prologue now unfold. I recommend you go back and read my REVISED prologue if you didn't listen to my earlier warnings. It will make much more sense. Please review!

Bright Eyes


	9. Trapped Torment

Chapter Nine: Trapped Torment

"Sir, it's Draco. He's been behaving quite unusually," said Blaise quietly. "Ever since the night that you went to the hospital wing. We're quite concerned."

"Has he just been… empty? Like he is now," questioned the professor and took a seat in the high backed chair behind his desk. "Sit down."

"Yes, sir," nodded Blaise and sat down in an identical chair, gently tugged on Draco's sleeve to make him follow. "He can barely do anything by himself… some professors have been getting quite upset. He hasn't been able to complete homework or go to Quiddich practice… Pansy has been completely obsessed. She even did his homework." He finished, looking completely disgusted.

Snape nodded carefully, rubbing his temples. "I hate to do this, especially to a student like Draco. I'm afraid we'll have to isolate him in the hospital wing until he either improves… or his parents take him home for the Christmas holidays."

The pale grey eyes of Draco Malfoy opened a crack and were greeted by blazing sunlight streaming in from the windows beside his bed. The young blond turned from his stomach onto his back and took in his surroundings from his heavily ornate, ebony bed. _What am I doing home? _He thought tentatively. _Who put me here? _

He registered that he was under the rich silken covers of his bed and still wearing his school robes. Glancing up at the ceiling he confirmed that he was at Malfoy Manor in his room. It was a masterpiece of a bedroom, with snakes coiling endlessly across the high walls and flickering candles throwing shadows across the carvings, creating an illusion of movement and life.

"I don't know what to think," murmured a female voice, her voice crisp and sharp like the snap of a twig on a frigid morning.

Draco sat bolt upright, grey eyes flickering across the walls, in search of the owner of the voice.

"It's so odd," replied a male with a deep velvety murmur.

"Who's there?" demanded Draco. He felt something deep inside himself slip. It was like he was flying and his broom had been ripped from beneath him. A sudden weightlessness followed by a plummeting sensation.

"It's a classic case, Severus," replied the female voice.

_Severus? _Thought Draco. _Severus Snape? Can he hear me? Does he know I'm in the manor?_

Carefully, Draco pulled the heavy covers of his bed from his lap and slid his feet into a pair of fur slippers. A few steps away his heavy velvet dressing gown was draped over the end of his bed, a gift from his mother for his last birthday with spells woven into the fabric to keep him warm. Removing his Hogwarts robe with only school pants and shirt underneath, he replaced it with the dressing gown.

Now feeling awake, Draco strode over to the double doors that entered into his private library and sitting room. Twisting the cold handles beneath his long, white fingers, the young Malfoy expected them to swing open.

Nothing happened.

_What in the name of Merlin? _Thought Draco grimly. _The house elves know better than to lock me in. Father wouldn't tolerate it!_

"What do you mean by classic?"

Draco jumped as another voice joined in the invisible conversation taking part in his room. He shook himself, loathing his lack of mettle in his own home.

He was now tense as he was before a Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quiddich final. "Who are you?" he demanded, striding towards a window for means of escape.

"He must be so tired and stressed that he's withdrawn into himself. I've seen it in other students before, Severus," whispered the female voice although it still retained its ever sharp edge.

Draco shook at the windowpane looking outside to the grounds of Malfoy Manor. _What is this? _Thought Draco as he pulled his wand from his pocket.

"Reducto!" bellowed Draco. Nothing happened. It was as though he hadn't even cast the spell. "REDUCTO!" he repeated at the top of his voice. "REDUCTO! REDUCTO! REDUCTO! AGH!"

"Poppy!" called Severus Snape, his voice brusque and cold.

Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts Matron, bustled out of her office, a look of exasperation planted on her face. "Severus, back so soon? If it's one of your Slytherins – O my!"

"I am fine, Poppy, although yet to find the culprit. Mr Malfoy on the other hand – "

Poppy looked careful at the boy who was being gently tugged along behind the Potions Professor. He was paler than ghost and his eyes were just as transparent.

"What, in the name of the Goddess, happened to him?" gasped Poppy, touching her hand to her heart. "I've never seen such a thing. Oh, he's looks like death. Severus, place him on a bed."

She watched as Draco Malfoy was guided towards one of the infirmary beds with a book in hand for his first class of the morning. He sat down with his legs crossed in an almost child-like manner.

"Now if I could have your wand," asked Poppy carefully.

Hesitantly he handed over the heavy wood without looking away from his book.

"I don't know what to think," whispered Poppy, her voice on edge. She gently tugged Severus's sleeve and pulled him away from the bed.

"It's so odd," replied Severus in a low voice as though worried that Draco would hear and take offence to what they were saying.

"It's a classic case, Severus," replied Poppy, pulling at the hem of her apron.

"What do you mean by classic?" asked Severus softly; clearly implying that Draco's case was completely unique.

"He must be so tired and stressed that he's withdrawn into himself. I've seen it in other students before, Severus," whispered Poppy, her voice becoming skittish. "But I am worried that it may turn out otherwise. The Malfoys are a rare breed…an odd breed…what his father did while he was at school. Many prefer to see them as rumours… he's nearly as infamous as You-Know-Who."

Severus watched as the matron performed a temperature charm and checked over the young man before replying.

"Mmm… Lucius always was an odd one… he hasn't been sited since his run in with the ministry apparently…" murmured Severus, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Would you recommend contacting his family at this stage then? I've had other cases where family is often the reason for these odd happenings." She nodded her head towards the vacant looking boy on the hospital bed.

"I'd leave it until he turns up again…I'd assume that will be sometime over Christmas," said the professor clearly, eyeing the matron carefully he saw her confused glance and continued, "there are many benefits held around the Christmas season. The Malfoy Patriarch not attending would be considered a scandal."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. She was a simple witch and not of high-class breeding but still understood the importance of the hierarchy in wizarding society. "I can't let him just stay here for too long – "

Severus raised an eyebrow. "The Lord of the House Malfoy will come when he is ready…never before," he said with a sarcastic edge and a hint of knowing.


	10. Wane Waking

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.

Word Count: 1,182

Disclaimer: To own Harry Potter would be a dream come true. That's one dream that I'm not going to see come true all that soon.

Rating: PG

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I really should be revising for exams… but meh. I needed a break.

Chapter 10: Wane Waking

Poppy Pomfrey sat in her small office surrounded by expensive bills for the costly potions that the Hogwarts Hospital Wing used. Each year it was her job to go through and check what potions needed replenishing, how much they cost and inquire if the resident Potions Master, Severus Snape, could brew any of them.

It was a long and tedious job, which the matron usually performed in the 'off season' as she often put it. It was the space of time that varied from year to year. It was a period that was dark, rainy; in between Quiddich matches; during Professor Hagrid's Care of Magical Creature theory classes and close to holidays.

This year the time had fallen a week before Christmas.

Madam Pomfrey filed away the order form she had just completed and picked up another labelled 'The Skele Company: bring you the best in bones remedies for 300 years'. Carefully dipping her quill into her glass inkpot, the healer slowly brought the tip to the thick parchment.

"Madam?" demanded a cold, drawling voice from her door.

The matron flinched at the cool voice. Several drops of ink splattered across the parchment. She winced and replaced her quill in the inkpot.

"Just a moment," she replied, carefully keeping her frustration at bay as headed towards the door. She took a deep breath and opened the door to reveal two, tall, blond figures, one in Hogwarts school uniform, the other in rich, embroidered, black robes.

The first was clearly Draco Malfoy, slightly shorter than the other man and wearing Hogwarts uniform. His figure held a youthful slenderness that would soon broaden out into that of a man. Grey eyes gleamed brightly but no longer shone silver as they had only the night before.

Madam Pomfrey's eyes rose to the second, slightly taller of the two. He stood straight and exuded an air of and darkness and cold. His face gave no definite sign of his age although his eyes said that he had seen far too much for that of a man with a teenage son. He wore handsome robes of black with silver and bronze embroidery woven meticulously across the expensive cloth.

The Matron's blue eyes met the pale grey of the oppressing figure before her.

"Lucius Malfoy," he drawled, showing no sign of shaking her hand or showing any sign of greeting. The simple announcement of his name was enough to invoke subservient behaviour in most.

"In – indeed Mr Malfoy. I - your son shouldn't be out of bed!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, her eyes widening at the boy.

"I wish to take my son home," said Lucius clearly, his voice smooth and holding a tone that clearly stated that he was in no mood to argue. "I have business elsewhere today, Madam. Do not waste my time."

"He is very ill, Mr Malfoy," sniffed Madam Pomfrey, highly affronted that her healing knowledge would be apposed in such a way as this. "Just last night he – "

" – Madam, you can clearly see that I'm fine," interrupted Draco coldly. His pale eyes narrowed slightly. "I believe that if I wish to leave that I have every right to do so."

"Young Mister Malfoy! How dare you – "

" – He quite obviously dares indeed, Madam. Now, if I deem him fit to travel, then he will travel," drawled Lucius in a clipped tone. "I don't see any sign of illness so therefore he will return home."

"Mr Malfoy, from what I have seen your son has been _ill. _He most likely still is!_ I _must _insist_ that he stays here!" insisted Madam Pomfrey.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and a smirk irked the corners of his mouth, a final sign that he had complete control over the conversation. "I contacted Severus Snape and informed him that I would be taking Draco home several days earlier than his peers. He replied that he was to be away on business but informed me that the Headmaster would be notified. Good day to you Madam."

With that, Lucius turned on heel and strode towards the infirmary door, closely followed by his son.

Lucius paused momentarily at the door as Draco collected his books from the small table next to the bed he had sat on several days prior.

Draco eyed the Matron for a moment before heading towards his father.

In that brief moment, Poppy Pomfrey saw something both disturbing and frightening within the boy's eyes. Yet from that day forth she would never quite know what it was.

"Father?" asked Draco, as he and his father strode towards the front gates of Hogwarts, a weedy house elf missing several fingers trailed behind them with Draco's trunk. "How did you know?"

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow and continued to look straight ahead towards the front gates. "I have my sources within Hogwarts, Draco. I also have Veritaserum for those who are more – ah – unwilling to release information."

Draco allowed a small smirk to grace his features.

"As we are still upon Hogwarts property, I will ask you to restrain from any further questioning on the matter," issued Lucius, his eyes gleaming in the bright, morning light.

"Until we reach the carriage," supplied Draco, his smirk broadening as the Hogwarts gate came within arms reach.

Lucius flicked his wrist, the platinum bands on his fingers gleaming brightly, and the tall gates, ensnared with the Hogwarts crest, creaked open.

Several feet away a carriage stood. Its silver wrought body shining as though new. An intricate letter 'M' wound itself across the door.

The weedy house elf moved forward, in front of the two Malfoys, and opened the heavily gilded door, sinking into a deep bow as it did so.

Once settled inside the spacious, velvet interior, Lucius flicked his wand.

Draco's clear, awake eyes clouded to a dark grey and became unfocused. "I… why aren't – where am I – what – "

"I placed you under the Imperius Curse after giving you the potion to calm your energy," drawled Lucius. "We couldn't have you staggering about the infirmary, now could we?"

While Draco gathered his thoughts, Lucius picked up a decanter of deep purple liquid, which had been floating beside him and poured a glass.

"I'm not in my chambers anymore…" whispered Draco, eyes shifted around the spacious compartment.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You were never in your chambers. You're currently in the carriage. You've been unconscious for several days now. Several of my informants brought to my knowledge that you had been placed in the Infirmary. It surprised me that I had not been alerted. After several days of similar reports I decided I must contact Severus, who, might I say was quite… unwilling to submit much – if any – information." Lucius took a sip of wine and looked imploringly into his glass for a moment. "What can you recall of the past few days?"

Draco sat for a full minute, contemplating the past week, sifting through thoughts that had built up and been left unsorted. His eyes suddenly widened slightly. "What… day is it?"

A/N ok the reason why all of the sudden Draco is better is because his father entered the hospital wing, gave Draco his potion which he hadn't had in ages.

Morning Light Lucifer…anyone get it? Hehe. I actually did that subconsciously! Hehe.


	11. Christmas Part I

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes 

Summary: Part One of the Annual Malfoy Christmas Ball

Word Count: 1,123

Disclaimer: To own Harry Potter would be a dream come true. That's one dream that I'm not going to see come true all that soon.

Rating: PG

A/N: Holidays! Look how fast this chapter came up! It must be a Bright Eyes record!

Chapter 11: Christmas: Part One

Draco sneered at his reflection in the mirror. During the past week nothing had been going right. His pale blond hair was sleek, without a piece out of place. His midnight blue frock coat sat perfectly, not a single wrinkle on the expensive fabric. Yet everything was wrong.

His head throbbed dully, as it had ever since he'd arrived at the manor a week before. Despite is headache and his body's desperate for sleep, his father had insisted upon his attendance at the Annual Malfoy Christmas Ball.

The Ball took place on Christmas Eve. It was an event dedicated to aristocracy, drinking, gossip and general boasting. Every year invitations were sent out on the 1st of December, signed by Lady of Malfoy Manor. To be invited to the ball, one was required to be of pureblood decent or be in the Malfoys favor. It was the Event of the Year for Narcissa and she spent much time planning, as so to out do herself in grandeur. At the previous year's Ball each guest had be individually waited on by a house elf and each guest had a choice of 18 different dishes to choose from for the main course. Such a feat had required many time turners for the kitchen elves.

"Draco, darling! Nearly time to greet the guests!" called his mother's sweet voice from his bedroom door. "I'll wait for you in the lounge."

"Yes mother," replied Draco tonelessly and his pulled his cloak over his shoulders. Silently, he made his way towards his private lounge where his mother was waiting.

Draco's private lounge was coloured in dark rich tones. Cherry wood bookshelves adorned the walls of the room, each full of texts, novels and ancient tomes. Heavy forest green couches and armchairs were placed strategically around the room, a cherry wood side table with an intricate lamp placed on top next to each one.

Narcissa stood out from the dark room, dressed in a deep crimson gown with long, flowing sleeves. Her blond hair was pinned up into intricate braids that poured out into waves at the top of her head. She was almost unnaturally beautiful in the shadows of the dimly lit room. A light among the darkness.

Draco nodded to his mother and kissed her cheek. "You look wonderful, mother."

Narcissa nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of her mouth. "You too look very handsome, darling. To think you're 16."

"Yes, mother," smiled Draco, roughly pulling on his black dragon hide gloves that had left on a small table. The small talk was already making his head pound and this was only between he and his mother. The guests had even begun to arrive yet.

"We best head down to the Entrance Hall to meet your father. The guest will begin arriving shortly," said Narcissa, her voice almost wavering with nerves and excitement as she led her son through his chambers to the corridor.

"Is there anything you can tell me about this year's Ball, mother?" asked Draco politely, although he was already aware that his mother wouldn't give away any details.

Narcissa gave her son a small smile as they approached the sweeping staircase that led down to the Entrance Hall. "Oh darling, how I would love to tell you, but I can't risk you giving anything away!" With this she flicked her wrist and Draco knew, however small this gesture was, it was meant to silence him.

"Darling!" trilled Narcissa as her husband appeared from a room just off the Entrance Hall. "Here we are!"

Draco rubbed his head with one gloved hand as he's mother's voice pounded ungraciously against his head. "Father," he said quietly, lowering his hand and looking up towards his father.

Lucius was dressed in a frock coat of similar design to his son's, only in black and with silver set buttons and his cloak fell to the ground in a sweeping manner. Surrounding the elder Malfoy were at least 100 house elves, each in a clean, matching tea towel.

Seeing Draco's raised eyebrow, Lucius smirked. "As last time, your mother has decided that each guest shall have a personal house elf to wait on them throughout the meal. As guests arrive the elves will collect cloaks as couples are announced at the main stairway in the ballroom," said Lucius in a detached drawl.

Narcissa nodded enthusiastically at her husband's statement and latched onto his tailored sleeve. "I think it's time for us to take out positions for the greeting," she said, smiling excitedly.

Lucius and Narcissa glided towards the front doors while Draco strayed behind, eyes focused on his highly polished shoes. The world was starting to become distant and detached as it had at school just the other week. Everything seemed to move further and further away. It was like being pulled away from himself. He was still there yet he was watching from a point somewhere next to him. His control over his actions was slowing and it was becoming harder to decide what he wanted his body to do.

"Father," murmured Draco. He could feel the very last of his control slipping. "Father?" he repeated, slightly louder.

Lucius turned, slightly agitated to see his son half slumped on the ground, eyes rolling back into his head.

"Faarerrr," slurred Draco, his voice barely a whisper. He was now half sitting, half lying on the marble of the Entrance Hall.

Pulling himself from his wife's grip, Lucius found himself at his son's side. He pulled Draco up into a sitting position and reached into his cloak for the potion that had kept the dæmon within Draco at bay for the past few months. Pouring the potion down Draco's throat, Narcissa rushed to her husband and son.

"What's wrong with him?" demanded Narcissa, her eyes flashing with nerves and rage.

Draco groaned slightly and seemed to come to.

"Over the past few months, Draco has been overcome but what I believe to be a dæmon. One which he is having a few problems controlling," said Lucius coldly. "He'll be fine in a moment."

Narcissa's eyes widened dramatically. "Demon? Just a few problems controlling this _demon_? You _can't _tell me that he is_ fine_!"

Lucius turned to face his wife full on. His eyes glittered with a cold, burning fury. "He will be fine, Narcissa. He is a Malfoy."

At these words Draco's eyes opened slowly and he began to straighten himself up. With the help of his father, he began to stand up and dust himself off.

"Darling!" gasped Narcissa. "Are you alright? Maybe he shouldn't attend tonight - "

" – I will attend, mother," said Draco, his voice sharp. "It's the only way to overcome this."

A/N Hope you enjoyed it! Part Two, where the actual ball takes place, will be up soon! Please review!


	12. Christmas Part II

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes 

Summary: Part One of the Annual Malfoy Christmas Ball

Word Count: 1,312

Disclaimer: To own Harry Potter would be a dream come true. That's one dream that I'm not going to see all that soon.

Rating: PG

A/N I should probably tell you all now, if you hadn't already realised, that this story is AU from book 6. Wow! I'm getting faster with these chapters! What is wrong with me? Shouldn't I be going the opposite way?

Chapter 12: Christmas: Part Two

Severus Snape had always hated formal affairs with a passion. The stuffy, cold attitudes of the wizarding world's aristocrats was more than he could bear at the moment. Losing his memory only a month before and holding his position as a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix was more than a wizard should have to handle.

And it was about to get worse.

The tall, slender figure of Lucius Malfoy was heading towards him, two champagne flutes held in his gloved hands.

Guests nearby, who had lower social standing (and therefore stood around the slightly darker edges of the ballroom) were all in shock as their host sauntered into their midst.

Lucius smirked at the stunned guests and handed a glass to Severus.

"You looked miserable," drawled Lucius and took a sip of the sparkling liquid.

Severus stiffened his shoulders slightly and griped his glass with force. "You know I hate these occasions, Lucius," he ground out.

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow. "As long as you continue attending, I will continue forcing you to enjoy yourself," he said coolly, although a hint of the smirk remained. "That school must be driving you to the edge! You must find come time relax, Severus."

The potions master relaxed a fraction, but his grip on the glass remained firm. "I don't know how you can talk about relaxation with the amount of work you commit yourself to, Lucius. This is the first time I haven't seen you doing four things at once in at least six months. What with the Daily Prophet, keeping on top of the ministry and all of your businesses," his voice dropped slightly, "both legal and illegal."

For a moment an almost defensive look appeared across Lucius's face, but it dissipated almost immediately. "I was talking about you, Severus. Not myself," said Lucius. His voice had lost it's friendly banter and his eyes were now looking just over Severus's right shoulder.

Fortunately, it was at that moment that dinner was announced with the ringing of a large bell.

Without another word, Lucius left and heading back into the surging crowd, towards the Dining Hall.

Severus followed the large crowd into the enormous dining hall, which housed a outrageously long table that fitted at least eighty aristocrats quite comfortably.

"Sir?" squeaked a small voice from Severus's knees. He looked down to see a serving elf hovering nervously. "Jorry will being serving you this evening," said the elf politely, bowing low. "What is sir's name?"

Severus looked down at the bowing creature and replied with slight distaste, "Snape. Severus Snape."

The elf nodded vigorously and motioned for Severus to follow.

To his surprise, the elf did not stop at the middle of the table, where persons, such as himself were usually seated. Instead proceeded all the way to the head.

"Your seat, sir," squeaked the elf, motioning to the seat, on the right of the table, two seats along from the head. The elf stepped back and Severus stood waiting behind his chair for the hosts to be seated. Only then would the Christmas feast begin.

"Pansy, darling, I'm to sit at the right of my father. You know that as well as anyone else," said a crisp voice with an weary edge, several seats to Severus's right.

The professor turned to see his best student, Draco Malfoy heading towards the end of the table, sneering slightly as he turned away from Pansy Parkinson.

"Sir?" he said with slight surprise, sidling up to his chair with cat like grace. "Finally, some good conversation."

Severus nodded with a slight smirk. "I much agree."

"I wasn't aware of the seating arrangement tonight. So it's quite a surprise to see you here. Father should be here in a moment, probably having a last talk with mother about the arrangements," said Draco pleasantly, fingering the velvet cover of his high-backed chair in a distracted manner.

Severus eyed Draco carefully. His pupil had never been known for such pointless conversation. Even when participating in small talk, Draco Malfoy seemed to have an ulterior motive. Although at this point in time, he seemed to be letting himself relax, hence, allowing pointless conversation to pour from his mouth.

At that moment a sudden hush fell over the crowd and all eyes turned to the wide, double doors, through which the guests had entered.

"Announcing, Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa Malfoy!"

Severus watched as Lucius kissed his wife's delicate hand and then departed to the opposite end of the table. Their faces were masks of regality and ice.

Lucius stood at the head of the table and nodded to the crowd, his expression slightly detached. He plucked a silver goblet, full of a matured red wine and raised it. Each guest immediately repeated this motion.

"My friends!" drawled Lucius, looking every part the immaculate host, from sleek hair to pristine robes. "I welcome you all! We gather here tonight, the purest of pure, to celebrate. We shall rejoice in our good fortune, our good health and our good blood! To us!"

"To us!" echoed the hall.

"Now let us feast!" called Lucius, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

Chair scraped and all different dishes, from quail to roast hippogriff appeared on the table.

"What is sir wanting to be eatings?" squeaked Jorry from Severus's side.

"Hippogriff. Rare," said Severus shortly. Immediately the tender meat alongside an array of fresh vegetables appeared before him. He never felt any compassion for house elves. Their bowing and scraping had always repulsed him.

"How have you been, Severus?" drawled Lucius, looking somewhat smug in his chair which overlooked the entire party. "It has been too long."

_So that's how we're going to play, is it? _thought Severus. "Oh, quite well, Lucius. What with all those ignorant youths I teach."

"Mmm…" said Lucius mildly, drinking deeply from his goblet. "I still don't know why you go back year after year, when one, such as yourself, with such unrivalled expertise, could _easily _start his own business."

"And if I did start such a business, I would of course require backing, wouldn't I, Lucius," replied Severus with a slight smirk. "Perhaps from a good friend who would want several potions in return…?"

"Perhaps…" replied Lucius, whose eyes had wandered to his son. "You've barely touched anything, Draco. Are you feeling quite well?"

Severus glanced at the teenager who was looking rather pale and withdrawn.

Draco nodded and glanced up at his father. Slowly, he lifted his wine goblet to his lips, as though to prove he were well, although his hand seemed to tremble slightly under the weight of the wrought silver.

Severus narrowed his eyes. By this stage, Lucius had lost interest and was in deep conversation with the French Minister of Magic, no doubt about politics and the state of the world.

Unable to follow their quick and fluent French, Severus returned his attention to Draco, who now appeared to be suffering a headache. His eyes were tightly closed and his forehead creased. The boy was almost trembling - perhaps he was suffering a fever? Had something happened earlier in the evening that had upset him?

"Lucius?" asked Severus tentatively. He, knew that a conversation between Lucius Malfoy and the French Minister of Magic would be of great importance, but there was something distinctly wrong about Draco's behavior. When teaching in an environment such as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one saw ill students on a day to day basis. Severus had learnt read these students through Occlumency and good perception. He could tell when a student was seriously ill or when one of the ingrates just wanted to skip potions.

He glanced at Draco, only to see that the young blond had risen from his chair, wand gripped in a steady hand, an incantation on his lips.

A/N This ball scene has got me very excited to write, therefore I've been working on it every time I get a chance. Feedback would be fantastic!

Bright Eyes


	13. Christmas Part III

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is complicated.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling. If it were mine it wouldn't have found its way out from under my bed and nobody would know its fantabulous tale!

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,285

A/N: Wow! Another chapter out… earlier than usual (usual being one per month eep!). My writing seems to get going when I'm really busy! Also note that the chapters are SLOWLY getting beta'd. I lost my new beta so now my old beta is working on my story again! It's a complicated world. Neither of them got past chapter 3. Let us hope there's not something wrong with it!

Chapter 13: Christmas Part III

He glanced at Draco, only to see that the young blond had risen from his chair, wand gripped in a steady hand, an incantation on his lips.

"Draco!" hissed Severus, his eyes widening. He wrenched the boy back into his seat before any of the guests began to pay attention.

Lucius was now staring coldly at his heir, who was gripping the base of his chair so tightly that his already pale fingers were losing blood. A pink tinge was colouring Draco's cheeks and a new found vigor was appearing in his eyes.

"I believe that we best be excused for a moment. Draco is feeling a little out of sorts," Lucius announced in a friendly manner to the guests nearby. "We shall return shortly. I do apologize."

The guests smiled and shook their heads at Lucius. Each repeating similar phrases of: "the poor darling boy" and "oh that Lucius, he is a marvelous father, isn't he?"

Lucius strode into the small anti chamber that exited from the Dining Hall, carefully closing the heavy double doors, despite the burning desire inside him that screamed for them to be slammed.

Draco was pacing the room, which didn't seem big enough to house the enormous energy that was bubbling inside him.

"Diffindo!" spat Draco, his wand waving in the general direction of a porcelain vase, which shattered promptly on impact. "Sectumsempra!" he issued towards a heavy, brocade tapestry.

A flick of Lucius's wrist and the spell ricocheted towards the ground, causing a small burn mark to appear on the polished boards.

"Stop," hissed Lucius, his eyes flashing coldly, hands clenched, "or will I have to stop you myself?"

Draco's eyes glistened brightly in the dim candle light of the room. With his left hand he undid the top three buttons of his frock coat and pulled off his thin gloves, throwing them aside carelessly.

"Let's duel, father," drawled Draco, as he readied himself with his wand arm drawn over his head. His movements became unnaturally sharp and vicious, similar to lightning in their sharp ferocity.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and allowed his wand to slip from his sleeve to hand in one swift movement. "I'd rather not, Draco. We do have company tonight. They're waiting for our return. Let us not keep them," he said quietly. "Stupefy."

Draco dodged his father's spell with practiced ease. "So you do want to duel!" He laughed coldly and ran a pale hand through his hair. "Yet I must agree with you, father. There are guests. Ignorant people who'd do anything you asked them to do. They'd all give their souls to the dementors of Azkaban if you were to wish it!"

Lucius stepped toward his son, wand held loosely in his gloved hand. "But I wouldn't do that, would I, Draco?"

Something seemed to blaze white-hot within Draco. "What wouldn't you do, my dear, Death E - "

"Don't," hissed Lucius, his face gained a pallor worthy of Lord Voldemort. In contrast, his eyes darkened remarkably.

Draco stretched in a cat like manner, a jolt of electricity seemed to run through his lean body. "Something is burning inside me, father. I want to let it out again!" the teenager drawled delightedly.

Lucius almost took an involuntary step backwards, but controlled the impulse and schooled his face into a mask of calm. "Like last time, Draco?" he questioned slowly, yet cold fury still bubbled high inside him.

The flush in Draco's cheeks appeared to be fading. "Not like before. In the beginning it was immediate and urgent. Now it's just an itch. A want," he said coldly. "It's getting better. Although as the testing draws to a close, it seems to be scattering my emotions everywhere. I have no control! Of all things to happen to a Malfoy!"

Lucius strode towards his son who was rapidly sinking into an armchair, although his face continued to radiate energy.

"You must return to the feast, Draco. You have a speech to make afterwards," said Lucius quietly, kneeling down beside his son. A flick of his wrist and the buttons of Draco's frock coat closed themselves. "You must fight this, Draco. Only then will this dæmon be under your control."

Severus looked up from his trifle to see Lucius and Draco re-entering the Dining Hall, Draco, looking slightly worse for wear.

Lucius sat down languidly and apologized humbly to the surrounding guests, whilst Draco attempted to sit down as inconspicuously as possible whilst having all of the surrounding females inquiring if he was alright.

"The boy's just over-tired, what with being Seeker and prefect. He's top of most of his classes you know," drawled Lucius, moving one hand through the air lazily, a trail of sparks followed closely behind.

Severus sneered slightly as women nearby leaned in and nodded sweetly.

"Isn't that right, Severus?" asked Lucius smoothly, white wine in hand.

Severus jerked his head up taking a moment to track the conversation. "Ah, yes. Yes, Lucius." _Sounding like the perfect lapdog now, Severus? _he thought and cringed inwardly.

"Severus is Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts," drawled Lucius, taking a sip of wine. "Never would have guessed it back in our years at Hogwarts. Look how far we've all come since then."

Severus caught several different meanings in that last sentence sentence, each more sinister than the last.

Lucius then leaned over to his son and murmured something into his ear. Draco nodded and rose from his seat.

Quiet fell over the hall and all eyes turned to Draco's pale figure.

It had become a tradition that Lucius made a speech at the end of the Christmas dinner. Although it seemed that this being Draco's last Christmas ball before his coming of age, it had been decided that tradition would be bent.

"We gather tonight to celebrate in each other. In what we have achieved. We, the pureblood community. The minority," said Draco clearly.

The crowd of pureblood aristocrats smirked at each other, although a few looked uneasy.

Severus had never realised it, but Draco had a distinct power over people. Like his father, he captivated his audience and made them feel good about themselves, all the while manipulating their thoughts.

"For all the good we have done, those with tainted blood continue to stain the wizarding world. My very own father donates millions of galleons to St Mungo's each year to aid the wizarding world's ill. Yet with the increased population of muggleborns in our community, we have no choice but to heal their diseases! Diseases that will kill in the muggle world but with our abilities they can be healed," said Draco, his speech now confusing some of his audience. "If we heal those with muggle blood, the muggles will want to know how they were healed!"

A murmur circled the room. Draco's speech was turning into politics, and several of the wizarding families seated in the hall were neutral.

"This is precisely what our Statute of Secrecy is supposed to prevent. The moment one of the gossiping muggles gets hold of the information, that our world is real, that we can heal diseases that the muggles can only dream of fixing… we shall be hunted down. We must prevent the association of these two groups! This could be the last chance we get before the word is spread. Muggleborns and halfbloods now outnumber us ten to one."

Draco paused and glanced around at his audience.

"I say we take action. That we call upon our origins and stand up for our blood," called Draco to the crowd. He was met with a sea of raised wine glasses. "Now Hush! And Listen…"

A/N Please feel free to ask me questions, leave comments and constructive criticism!


	14. Quiddich Quandries

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is a complicated thing.

Word Count: 1,126

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is on holiday at the moment, and I am far from it. I own nothing of Harry Potter.

A/N: Well! Here we are again! Can you believe how fast I'm getting these chapters out? Woohoo! I was going to make this on longer, but for homework reasons, I decided that it would become to parts. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 14: Quiddich Quandries

Draco paused and glanced around at his audience.

"I say we take action. That we call upon our origins and stand up for our blood," called Draco to the crowd. He was met with a sea of raised wine glasses. "Now Hush! And Listen…"

"If every one of you doesn't play your bloody hardest I swear I'll f– "

Somehow, this year the captain of the Slytherin Quiddich team was a rather nondescript 7th year with a foul mouth. Draco couldn't understand why someone as excruciatingly untalented as Derrick Johassen had made captain. He wasn't at all smart, he couldn't pass a quaffle to save his life and to top it all off, he was dating a Ravenclaw. The only reason he had been bestowed with the title of captain, was because his father had been a chaser for the Wimbourne Wasps during their winning streak in the 1970s.

"Malfoy! Are you paying attention to me?" demanded Johassen, his words closely followed by a wave of spittle. "I want the to be the shortest match possible. The Gryffindors need to score NOTHING! We only want the snitch. A win with little or no points to the other side will put us out in front. Think you can manage that Malfoy?"

Draco's lip curled into a cold sneer and his hands clenched tightly. "Just keep the bludgers out of my way and we'll see what happens," he drawled coldly and turned to fetch his broom.

Johassen's beady eyes narrowed and a cruel smile formed across his face. "Catch it, Malfoy, or you're cut."

Draco spun to face him. "What did you say," he said quietly. It wasn't a question. Draco had created the team. His father had bought them the best brooms available in his 2nd year. _He_ was the one who arranged tactics and game plans. _He_ made it work.

"I said, if you don't catch the snitch, you're cut from the team," repeated Johassen, now grinning broadly.

Other team members were now looking in disbelief at their captain. All of them knew what power Draco Malfoy held over their house and the consequences of not following him.

"Fine," replied Draco evenly. "But if I win, you hand over your Captaincy to me." He extended a pale hand towards Johassen.

The captain looked down at it with slight confusion. "But I said – "

"You _are_ making a bargain, aren't you?" drawled Draco, his eyes gleaming brightly. "Or are you afraid of losing to a Malfoy?"

Johassen froze for a moment but thrust his hand towards Draco's and gave it a bone crushing shake. Contractual magic sparked through each wizard's arm and the bet was sealed.

"Until I win," said Draco coolly, as he picked up his broom, the words _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_ gleaming across its sleek surface.

It was only seconds before the match was to begin and Draco could feel his heart thumping madly. Pure adrenaline was rushing through his system, but he couldn't understand why. He was generally calm until the snitch was spotted. _It's too early_, he though to himself, his heart racing.

"Looking a bit nervous there, Malfoy!" called a sharp female voice.

Draco looked up to see the youngest Weasley grinning madly at him from her starting position several feet away.

"Interesting tactics. Distracting the enemy with your hair, Weasley?" drawled Draco coldly, his eyes darting restlessly. "Or did you think the Quiddich Pitch would be the best place to ask me for a loan? Perhaps I could lend you enough to buy a new broom."

"Captains, shake hands!"

Both glanced down to see Harry and Johassen locked in a death glare, each attempting to crush the other's hand.

He glanced over just to see Ginny's eyes narrow in his direction.

"I don't need your money, Malfoy," she hissed, her hair whipping around her face in the strong wind.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded and without a second of hesitation players kicked off, flying in every direction.

Draco remained suspended in mid air for a moment. Without warning, something inside him snapped, like a vial of potion breaking, allowing it's liquid to spill forth. Energy bubbled hish and his face flushed. His focus was drawn toward a sparkle of gold from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Draco didn't even think as he slammed him broom forward and sideways into the Weasel's youngest sibling.

As Draco hurtled to the opposite end of the pitch, a feeling of weightlessness had over come him. He had never flown like this before, he had never felt like this before. He could feel himself feeding his own magic into his broom, beckoning for it to push beyond its designed limitations. For the final moment, everything slowed, almost to a stop and with one clean movement he clasped the golden snitch his hand.

The stands were still roaring and cheering for Gryffindor and Slytherin, not realizing that Draco had caught the snitch, within only seconds of the whistle.

"I've just been informed by Professor Dumbledore that… I don't believe it…" gasped commentator, Seamus Finnegan. The stands went silent, all of the students were now looking at Seamus with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. "Draco Malfoy caught the snitch within 5 seconds!"

It was then that all hell broke loose.

Draco was settled comfortably in his favorite chair in the Slytherin Common Room, a shot glass containing Ogdens Old Firewhiskey in his right hand, his wand in his left and Pansy Parkinson standing behind him, stroking his hair gently.

The Slytherin Common Room was partying like it had never before. Draco had made the fastest catch in the history of Hogwarts and beaten Gryffindor by a full 150 points.

"I believe Johassen owes me something!" drawled Draco to the sixth year Slytherins that surrounded him. "Perhaps a certain visit with Snape…hmm?"

The dark, hunched shape of Johassen seated by the fire, shifted uncomfortably. "Fine," he grunted coldly. Falling out with the Malfoys could mean the lose of an entire family fortune.

"Knock," said Draco, a smirk planted firmly on his face. Everything was feeling so right. Finally things were slotting into place. For the first time in months he felt at ease.

Johassen hunched his broad shoulders and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.

Immediately the door creaked open and a cold, 'come in', was heard.

The two stepped through the door to Snape's dimly lit office. Draco remembered one of the last time's he had been in here, although he knew it's owner had no recollection of those memories.

Draco's eyes traveled to one shady corner of the study, which housed a long dragon hide couch, which was currently occupied by one Lucius Malfoy.

A/N Feel free to leave any comments or constructive criticism. I love to hear from you all! As I have said previously: All chapters are slowly getting beta'd.


	15. Goodnight, Goodbye

Title: Hush 

Author: Bright Eyes (Or Shining Bright Eyes)

Summary: A final goodbye.

Word Count: 1,150

Disclaimer: Not mine, except the fabulous plot! (It's an awesome plot isn't it?)

A/N: Wow. Here it is! This was a rather difficult chapter for me to write. Just because of how hard it was to get everything sounding right, as the next chapter is going to be extremely hard! Eep! Some of you may not like the next one, but I am telling you to keep reading, alright! Things get better!

Hush 15: Goodnight, Goodbye.

Immediately the door creaked open and a cold, 'come in', was heard.

The two stepped through the door to Snape's dimly lit office. Draco remembered one of the last time's he had been in here, although he knew it's owner had no recollection of those memories.

Draco's eyes traveled to one shady corner of the study, which housed a long dragon hide couch, which was currently occupied by one Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco. What a surprise. We were just talking about you," said Lucius silkily, his eyes narrowing slightly with these words. "Congratulations on your victory over Gryffindor."

"Thank you father," nodded Draco, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. He turned to the dark haired Professor, "Professor Snape." With one sharp motion he elbowed Johassen in the ribs. "Captain Johassen has something to say, sir."

The burly teenager stepped forward, a look of extreme displeasure planted on his harsh features. "I'm resigning from my position as Quiddich captain… I…" Johassen paused and glared at Draco.

Draco nodded and grinned coldly, silently telling the disgruntled boy to continue.

"Sir…I – I believe Draco Malfoy should fill the position as Quiddich Captain," spat Johassen, a look of utmost disgust appearing as he said the words.

Snape arched one dark eyebrow. "Well if you insist Mr Johassen. Is there anything that has brought about this sudden decision?"

"No, sir," ground out the tense figure, his fingers clenching and unclenching sporadically.

Snape nodded curtly, a slight smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. "You are excused, Johassen."

Johassen sent Draco one last chilling glare and stormed out of the room.

Lucius laughed softly as the door closed, it was a chilling sound, like icy water being poured down your back. "Congratulations again, Draco. Prefect and Quiddich Captain. A feat, very few achieve."

"Perhaps we could go for a walk around the grounds, father," said Draco politely. "I haven't seen you since Christmas. If that's alright with you, Professor."

Severus just nodded quietly from his position near Draco. "Of course, Lucius was just about to leave. You caught him just in time."

Lucius rose elegantly from the dragon hide couch, his dark robes falling about him in perfect folds. "I always have time for my only child," he drawled coldly. "You must excuse us, Severus. We have much to discuss."

Lifted a potion out of one of the numerous shelves, Severus bowed his head slightly.

"Don't forget this," sneered the potions master, handing a vial of silvery liquid to Lucius.

A small smile graced Lucius's pale features as he accepted the small glass tube.

Wet gravel crunched under Draco's feet, it's ominous scraping rattling his thoughts.

"This is the path to the Forbidden Forest," said Draco quietly. He rubbed his hands together to try to warm them in the bitter cold.

"Indeed it is," replied Lucius sharply. "How very astute of you, Draco. Considering you have been attending this school for six years and have an aptitude for stirring trouble, it shouldn't be a surprise to you where the Forest is located."

Draco glanced at his father in surprise. He had never seen Lucius have such an outburst in public. Although to most it may have appeared small, it was rare that Lucius would speak in such a way anywhere but the Manor.

"Apologies, father," said Draco quickly, averting his eyes to stare at the path before him.

Lucius laid one tense, gloved hand on his son's shoulder, a gesture which should have been fatherly. Instead in was cold and ironic. "Now, Draco. How on Earth did you manage to catch the snitch so quickly in today's match."

Draco stared harder at the ground. He paused momentarily. "Ability riding on sheer luck, sir," he sneered.

Lucius topped in mid stride and turned on heel to face his son. "Ability riding on sheer luck, Draco?" he spat bitterly. "Are you to say that those unusual, disturbing and might I add _uncontrollable _powers of yours had nothing to do with it?"

"I couldn't help it," replied Draco, his voice equally cold. "I just snapped and before I could comprehend what had happened I was holding the snitch!"

Lucius glared hard into Draco's eyes. "I will not have you falling behind on your studies because of your new position as Quiddich Captain, Draco."

Realizing that the subject had been dropped, Draco nodded hurriedly

Holding his son's gaze, an unfamiliar expression dawned over Lucius's face. "I am looking forward to the day you take over the family business. It is getting far too chaotic for my liking. You shall go far with a little power in your hands."

Draco raised an eyebrow and gathered his Quiddich robes closer to him, wishing he had thought to bring a cloak with him. "But sir, I though I was to join you in the business until I had a child of my own... then I would have full control. I thought this was your plan, sir."

Lucius furrowed his brow. "Perhaps," he said softly.

They continued walking in silence for several minutes. An apprehensive air hung over them like a heavy cloak. A cloak that brought no comfort and no warmth.

Without warning, Draco stopped walking. "Father, what's wrong. Something's happened, hasn't it? I could hear it in your voice."

Lucius continued to walk down the path, now approaching the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Father!" called Draco, his eyes narrowing as Lucius failed to turn around.

Draco sprinted towards his father and grasped his forearms from behind. "What's wrong?" the young Slytherin hissed sharply. "Tell me."

Lucius continued walked, Draco matching his strides, still holding onto his father's silk robes.

"Please?" added Draco in a softer tone.

Lucius stopped and turned to face his son. "Remember to stand by what you said in your speech at Christmas. It will be important in your future," he said in a resigned tone with a weary edge. "Good bye, Draco. My son."

He extended one gloved hand and Draco grasped it tightly. It was a close as he would ever get to an embrace from his elder.

An odd sensation overcame him. It was like a pulling in his chest, as though something inside him, a very big something inside him, was leaving. It had been triggered by that one word. 'Goodbye'.

Yet somehow Draco couldn't bring himself to question it. He couldn't bring himself to ponder why his father would be behaving so strangely or why he was saying goodbye.

"Goodnight, father," replied Draco, his voice travelling in the still night air.

"Goodbye, Draco," repeated Lucius, and turned towards the Forbiddden Forest, never looking back.

Draco looked down at his green robes. One long, blond hair that was not his own was stuck to his robes. He carefully removed it, winding it tightly around his ring finger and without another word he turned back towards Hogwarts.

A/N Hope you enjoyed it! Please tell me your opinions! Ask questions! All that jazz! I'd be glad to chat:D I'm on holidays at the moment so I'm hoping to have another AWESOME chapter out soon. No promises though! I'm planning my birthday party! Woohoo!

Bright Eyes


	16. Departures and Arrivals

Title: Hush

Author: Bright Eyes 

Summary: Changes and new responsibilities arise.

Word Count: 1,189

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was, never will be. I just have a plot. Damn good plot too…

A/N: Fast update! Woot!

**Chapter 16: Departures and Arrivals.**

"Goodnight, father," replied Draco, his voice travelling in the still night air.

"Goodbye, Draco," repeated Lucius, and turned towards the Forbiddden Forest, never looking back.

Draco looked down at his green robes. One long, blond hair that was not his own was stuck to his robes. He carefully removed it, winding it tightly around his ring finger and without another word he turned back towards Hogwarts.

"He's not," repeated Draco, scraping his fingers across the worn wooden chair he had been shown to on arrival at Dumbledore's study. He had come to loathe the Professor's study, with its curious silver objects puffing and whirring merrily on the broad oak desk. Draco desperately fought of the urge to crush them. "He just can't be."

"I'm very sorry, Draco. You spoke to him last night, didn't you?" asked the unnaturally soft voice of Professor McGonnagal.

Draco could feel himself shifted back and forth in the chair. His eyes focused on the pale blond hair still wrapped around his finger.

"Would you like something to drink, Draco? Tea? Hot chocolate? Perhaps a calming potion?" asked the Hogwarts Matron, Madam Pomfrey.

"He's not," whispered Draco. He could feel himself dissociating from the situation. It was a marvellous feeling. He had discovered the ability when he was a small child, when he -

" - we've contacted your mother, Draco. She'll be here shortly," said the smooth voice of Professor Snape, interrupting Draco's train of thought.

"He's looking very pale," commented Professor Sprout quietly. "Do you think we should just leave him alone? He might want some time alone. To contemplate – "

"– No, no, no," said the drifting voice of Professor Trelawny. "It is dangerous to leave one so young, all alone, when there is a spirit loose on the grounds…"

"Draco!" called a sweet voice from the doorway.

Draco's focus broke and he turned sharply towards the door to see his mother enter the room, dressed in glamorous black robes of silk and velvet, a veil partially obscuring her face. One miserable house elf following closely behind her, holding her travelling cloak. Draco barely contained a pained wince as he looked at her.

'I don't want to deal with this,' he thought to himself, repeating in his head as though it were a non-verbal incantation.

"Professor Dumbledore," murmured Narcissa, walking daintily towards the Headmaster. "Might I speak to my son, alone? I don't think he wants to be crowded at the moment, the poor dear."

Dumbledore nodded courteously, "of course, Narcissa and please feel free to call me Albus. My condolences."

Narcissa smiled a very small, almost shy smile and nodded. "Thank you - ah, Albus."

The Professors quickly filed out of the circular study, leaving the two Malfoy's alone.

"Silencio," whispered Narcissa, pointing her wand towards the door. She then sauntered over to the Headmaster's desk and sat on a small patch of wood, not covered by peculiar silver instruments.

"And how are you, mother?" asked Draco wearily, he felt as though his head had been pounded by a hippogryff on rampage.

"I want you to stop this depressed, self-indulgent business this instant," spat Narcissa coldly. "You like to act? Let us see how well you can act outside of this infernal school. You are sixteen, turning seventeen in June. You are old enough to take over the family business and you will not disappoint this family by failing to take the reins."

Draco froze for a moment, thoughts pounding through his head. Narcissa had never spoken to him like this. "But I have school," he said weakly. He could distinctly feel a migraine forming behind his right eye.

"And your father left you the Malfoy name," replied Narcissa. "I believe that running an enterprise is far more important than whatever this school will give you. I will collect you tomorrow at midday. No excuses. All of your belongings are to be packed. I do not want you to return to this school until you sit your NEWT's. In the mean time you will receive private tutoring at the Manor."

"Why are you doing this to me?" asked Draco, running his fingers through in hair.

Narcissa knelt down next to her son, her expression softening slightly. "I am sorry, Draco. It's the only way we can keep everything together. We cannot fall, or allow the cracks to show. We have to push forward and leave it in the past. Grieving is not an option at this point. Only the finest acting is allowed."

The moment Narcissa left, Severus was instructed to take the young Malfoy to his room and assist him in packing his belongings.

"Master Malfoy might like to talk to someone before he leaves," Professor Dumbledore had told him. "This will give him the opportunity. Do not force him, Severus. Just allow him to realise that someone is there to help."

Draco's room was very tidy, despite growing up with house elves who cleaned up after his every move.

It was a grand room; the walls were adorned with ancient tapestries depicting Salazar Slytherins in battle and a large bed in Slytherin colours sat amongst the finery.

"Your leave will be quite a loss for Slytherin, Draco," said Severus quietly. "Prefect and Quiddich Captain." He winced at the last words, remembering the night before.

The tall teenager had just opened his trunk and paused for a second, running his fingers over the harsh material, embossed with the words 'Draco Malfoy', before straightening his posture. "I must continue the family business," he replied coolly. "I don't have time for trivial games such as Quiddich anymore. I am the Head of the House Malfoy now."

"But surely your mother could – "

" – She couldn't," interrupted Draco, his eyes hard and glassy. "It is my responsibility to my father."

"You're not giving yourself the opportunity to grieve, Draco," said Severus as softly as he could. He was not one known for his social skills, let alone convincing a teenage boy to talk openly to him. "And that is not healthy. Not even for a Malfoy… You can talk to me, Draco."

A sneer hovered on the corner of Draco's mouth, triggered by Severus's last, awfully cliché words. "I'll attempt to fit you into my busy schedule, Professor," he replied with a smirk and placed a pile of neatly folded shirts into his case. "Send me an owl."

"Do you need help with anything, Draco?" asked Severus, realising that a subject change was in order.

"No," replied Draco bluntly, the teenager, not even bothering to look at his Professor. "Actually, yes. Tell the house elves to send my dinner to my room. I don't wish to attend in the Great Hall tonight."

Nodding, Severus turned to leave, realising that another student – one of his most promising students, had slipped through his fingers in less than twenty four hours. Although, at the same time, he knew it was partially his fault.

A/N Do not fret my grieving readers! Hang in there, for this story is NOT complete yet. We're in the _magic _world here.

Bright Eyes


	17. Out of Depth

Title: Hush 

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: The mind of Draco Malfoy is complicated.

Word Count: 1,383

Disclaimer: What's the difference between JK Rowling and me? Well she gets paid and I don't. It's not mine and never will be (but wouldn't it be wicked if it was…?)

A/N: I have exams next week! Sorry! It's been ready to go for an entire week but I've been running round like crazy finishing things off for school! Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

**Chapter Seventeen: Out of Depth**

"Do you need help with anything, Draco?" asked Severus, realising that a subject change was in order.

"No," replied Draco bluntly, the teenager, not even bothering to look at his Professor. "Actually, yes. Tell the house elves to send my dinner to my room. I don't wish to attend in the Great Hall tonight."

Nodding, Severus turned to leave, realising that another student – one of his most promising students, had slipped through his fingers in less than twenty four hours. Although, at the same time, he knew it was partially his fault.

Black. Why did everyone wish to wear black at a funeral? What did it represent? Did people wear it to represent their grief? If anything Draco found this reaction selfish. These people weren't mourning the loss of Lucius Malfoy; they were mourning their loss of business and money.

His father would have wanted traditional Malfoy or Slytherin colours, not black and definitely not selfish people with selfish means. Yet the only people who were fit to be at such a public affair were business associates and a select group of relatives.

A loud sniff brought Draco from his thoughts. He glanced to his left to see his mother dabbing her eyes with a delicate black lace handkerchief. Her bright, teary blue eyes were partially obscured by another elaborate veil. The widower was dressed in black silk to show her loss. Even while crying she still managed to look stunning.

" - Lucius was a man of honour and cherished all his family and friends. His passing is a great loss to the wizarding world and the Pureblood community. He will be greatly missed by all," finished Cornelius Fudge.

Draco glanced at his watch, realising just how much of the funeral he had missed. The speeches had all been made by liars and cheats whom his father had done business with at some stage in his life. Draco was barely allowed to speak during the funeral, due to a sacred tradition involving him becoming the new Malfoy Lord.

"May Draco now rise," commanded the cold voice Consternae Malfoy, younger brother to the late Abraxas Malfoy and Draco's great uncle. Draco was thoroughly aware that Consternae inherited the Malfoy Empire if he were to have unfortunate 'accident'. The man had hounded Lucius since the day of Abraxas's death, desperate to get his hands on the fortune.

Draco sighed softly to himself and rose slowly from his chair in the front row. His black frock coat and cravat rustled gently in the breeze as he carefully walked towards his great uncle, his movements evenly balanced with grief and dignity.

"You know what to do, Draco," the cold voice of Consternae hissed into his ear.

Draco slowly approached his father's open casket, turning his back on his audience. Every member of his family, every member of the wizarding world who meant something was watching him with bated breath.

His father was lying so still, his blonde hair pulled back into a silk bow behind him. He had been dressed in traditional Malfoy regalia of blood red silks and black velvet. Draco had never seen him so peaceful in his sixteen years.

As he gazed at his father a wave washed over him, almost knocking to the ground. Emotions that had been blocked behind a carefully constructed wall were beginning to seep through.

He reached one pale hand down to his father's. His skin was so cold. So, so cold. Draco gently twisted his father's signet ring from his still finger and clasped it tightly. He felt a drop of water splash onto his hand and gently touched his face. His hand came away wet.

"Mediocritas e delictum summum terribilis's," whispered Consternae quietly enough so only Draco could hear. "This will not do for the Malfoy heir."

"I am no longer the heir, Uncle," hissed Draco, wiping the tear from his cheek. He turned to look at the large gathering of mourners, twisting the heavy signet ring onto his ring finger.

He slowly raised his left hand, displaying his inheritance to the crowd. "Upon the recent passing of my father, I accept my duties to my family and hereby present myself to you as Lord Draco, head of the noble and most ancient House of Malfoy."

Gentle clapping began across the crowd and Draco felt a slight breathlessness overcome him, followed by a distinct inability to breathe. Spasms wracked his body and his legs buckled beneath him.

"Not coping with your inheritance, nephew?" drawled the cold voice of Consternae.

Draco tried to draw a witty comeback from his vast repartee, but nothing could work its through the dark clouds seeping into his head.

"He's coming to, the poor dear," whispered Narcissa in a motherly tone. "Lucius inherited at the normal age, seventeen. Apparently the Malfoy inheritance is quite powerful, an very overwhelming experience for a sixteen year old."

Draco's eyes blinked in the bright, afternoon light pouring through the bay windows and he glanced around to see a group of well-groomed, upper class ladies standing around him. His cold gaze returned to his mother.

"You're in the guest room on the second floor, darling. You collapsed during the inheritance," murmured Narcissa in a motherly fashion. "As have many Malfoy men before you. The inheritance overwhelms you as the ancient magic of the Malfoys settles into its new carrier. If you are no longer feeling ill I think it would be best for us to join the party in the ballroom. Ladies, if I may talk with my son alone."

The group of matriarchs nodded quickly and left.

"Shall we, mother?" replied Draco quietly. His body felt tense and overworked, as though he had been at Quiddich training for several hours, without a break.

He slowly rose from the soft bed and took his mother's pale, ring laden hand. Without warning she clasped him by the shoulders, her long nails digging through the thick material of his frock coat.

"What did he say to you that night, Draco?" demanded Narcissa, a cold, almost maniacal gleam in her eyes. "He must have mentioned me. I was his is only woman. Ever. The only one!"

Draco froze in his mother's grip. "He spoke of no one," he replied quietly.

"Something, Draco," she hissed, and then in a slightly more gentle tone, "darling."

"I will not lie, mother," murmured Draco, although there was a force far deeper in his voice. "I will not tell lies of him."

Narcissa dropped her gaze and released Draco from her hold. Carefully, he lifted her snow white hand and guided her towards the door.

Midnight had come and gone and despite curt instructions from his great Uncle Consternae, telling him that he should take his place in the Patriarchal bed chambers, Draco couldn't bring himself to indulge in such a space at this point in time. His mother had her own wing of the house, even Draco had an exquisite set of chamber, although nothing within the grand Malfoy Manor could rival the elegance and splendour of the Master's Chamber's.

So Draco had remained in his own, slightly less splendid chambers. He had tried to a read book; write a letter to Pansy and had attempted to get drunk.

None of which he had succeeded in.

Draco glared into his glass of scotch, which was sitting on an antique coffee table, untouched.

He couldn't bring himself to drink. Despite shedding a single tear during the funeral, Draco hadn't been able to bring himself to grieve yet. He wasn't trying to delay the process, if anything he wanted it to happen as fast as possible so he could proceed with everyday life. Everyday life was going to change tomorrow: from Potions, Transfiguration and Arithmancy to business meetings with millionaires in France, Russia, The Middle East and Italy.

A feeling rushed over him that he hadn't felt in years. It was so unfamiliar he nearly brushed it aside, before realising how significant it was.

He felt small and out of his depth.

Draco shook the feeling off as best he could. He had no need for such things to pull him under. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realised how true in was.

A/N for those of you who know little about signet rings, in England they are generally worn on the little finger on the left hand. The way I depicted is the way they are worn by German and French society (left hand, ring finger). I chose this way because the Malfoys are of French background. It seemed to fit better… :D Please leave a review, I love to hear your feedback!


	18. Malfoy Money Matters

Title: Hush 

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: Draco learns to deal with the Malfoy business, all the way, spiralling to the dark.

Word Count: 1138

Disclaimer: Not mine, never, ever, ever. Dammit.

A/N: I had exams and slight writers block. Major apologies all round….I hate doing that to people. But here we are, back on track! Let's do this!

Chapter Eighteen: The Malfoy Money Matters

A feeling rushed over him that he hadn't felt in years. It was so unfamiliar he nearly brushed it aside, before realising how significant it was.

He felt small and out of his depth.

Draco shook the feeling off as best he could. He had no need for such things to pull him under. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realised how true in was.

"If our stock continues to deplete during the next financial year there will be a slight effect of staff morale…"

Draco could feel his eyes sliding shut as Hubert Withering began his daily report on the state of the Malfoy affairs. Withering was a boring man with a boring haircut, boring clothes and a highly boring life. The highlight of his day appeared to be discussing the rise and fall of the dullest investments the Malfoys had made in the 1970s and how his wife had won a knitting competition the weekend before last.

"… perhaps in your meeting with the French ambassador this evening you could bring up the issue of cauldron thickness," droned Withering.

Draco jolted out of his daze realising that the meeting was finally coming to a close.

"Just summarise what you said on a piece of parchment and leave it on my desk," he snapped, his patience with the short man wearing dangerously thin. How his father had kept him in his employment for the past seventeen years was beyond him.

Withering hurriedly shuffled towards the door, mumbling under his breath.

Draco glanced around his office in the Daily Prophet Building. It was a rich mahogany affair with silver and green offsets on the top floor.. He always started the day at the Prophet, a business established and run by the Malfoys since 1712. Upon arrival he was given the outline of the day ahead, where he would be travelling, who he would be meeting, which language he would be speaking.

All of the lessons his father had taught him seemed to be coming together. Although at age eight learning Russian and Italian had appeared worthless, Draco now found himself feeling grateful for the additional training. Everyday he met with hierarchy, ambassadors and businessmen from every corner of the globe, each expecting nothing but a young, naive boy.

Glancing up, Draco saw Withering re-enter the room, parchment in hand.

"There you are, Sir," he muttered quietly, placing the clean white parchment on the desk. "Your first appointment for the day is in the South of France. The details are in your diary. The portkey is set to depart in ten minutes. Have a pleasant day, sir."

Draco was already rifling through his planner. "You too, Mr Withering," he replied coldly. He could feel a headache coming on, despite it only being nine O' clock in the morning. Mentally shaking himself, he glared back down at the words before him.

c i 9:10am : meeting with French businessman Pierre DuNolt. Discussion of stocks. /c /i 

As he re-read these word he felt a wave of nausea roll over him. i Not now /i , he though desperately, feeling the diary slip from his hands. With shaking fingers he loosened his cravat, gasping for breath as he did so. Slumping in his high-backed, velvet chair, he allowed a thick silvery fog to overcome him.

i Just when it was under my control /i , thought Draco bitterly as he arose in the Patriarchal bedchamber.

"Oh darling, I thought for the worst when you collapsed…" cried the voice of Narcissa Malfoy, as she entered the elegantly furnished room, lilac robes billowing gracefully around her slender figure. "I couldn't bear losing you as well!"

"I didn't collapse," replied Draco between clenched teeth, as two St Mungo's Healer's entered behind his mother. He hated St Mungo's and it's Healers. It was a loathing he had inherited from his father, despite his generous donations over the years.

"Now, now, darling, I think it would be for the best if the Healers take a look at you. After all, it hasn't been the first time you've passed – "

" – I didn't pass – "

" – out this year, Draco," finished Narcissa smoothly. "You are now running a highly stressful enterprise, and we don't want anything to happen to you." She gently stroked the side of his face, a motherly gesture that caused Draco to flinch.

"I don't wish to see these people. You can't make me," hissed Draco. "I will see no one but Grand-mère in relation to my health. You already knew that before you brought these under qualified brutes into my house!"

The two Healers looked highly affronted by Draco's harsh comments.

"Get out of my Manor!" growled Draco, untangling himself from his covers. "Sortez!"

Without another word the Healers turned and left. Each sending a cool stare towards Narcissa on their way out. No doubt she had thrown an enormous fuss in some important person's office, ensuring that their day would be disrupted.

Draco pulled his heavy dressing gown over his shoulders and turned his glare on Narcissa. "I have told you before! I will not see anyone but a Guérisseur Malade in relation to my health! And who is a Guérisseur Malade in the House of Malfoy? My Grand-mère! Now leave!"

"Draco!" cried Narcissa indignantly; pulling at her brightly coloured robes, her frustration evident. "You will not speak in such a tone! I am your mother and - "

" - I am the owner of this house. If you do not do abide by my rules you may remove yourself and you belongings from the premises," interrupted Draco, his voice frigid with carefully controlled anger. "Well? What shall it be?"

Narcissa's posture stiffened, realisation striking her that her son using the full brunt of his status against her.

"You're still sixteen, your birthday's not for another month," spluttered Narcissa desperately.

"Just – just get out of the house. Now," hissed Draco. He felt his anger rising, causing a spark in his magic. "Now!" he repeated, his voice as hard as adamantine.

Narcissa turned and left without another word, leaving Draco feeling cold, alone and empty.

It wasn't long before Draco discovered that a business could not be left hanging in the balance while one wanted to take time off resting. Within two days he had received at least one hundred owls, each demanded appointments to be made and events to be attended.

The more he did the less he understood. He found his grip on the matters of Malfoy Enterprises slipping in the final weeks of his sixteenth year. Waking up in the morning was a confusion.

Where had his mother and father gone?

Why was he feeling dizzy?

Why were the walls turning silver?

A/N: Draco's getting confused…why? Hmmm.

Translations:

Grandmother: grand-mère

Guérissez: heal

Guérisseur Malade: sick healer

Sortez: leave

Thought it might make life easier.

Please leave a review. I love to hear form you all!

Bright Eyes


	19. A Theory

Title: Hush 

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: A dabble into the art of Necromancy.

Word Count: 997

Disclaimer: Not mine, never, ever, ever. Dammit.

A/N: Major writers block… but now I've gotten past this (rushed and very much the example of forcing oneself to write with writers block) chapter we're all good. I'm really looking forward to this next bit!

Chapter 19: A Theory

The more he did the less he understood. He found his grip on the matters of Malfoy Enterprises slipping in the final weeks of his sixteenth year. Waking up in the morning was a confusion.

Where had his mother and father gone?

Why was he feeling dizzy?

Why were the walls turning silver?

"Mother! MOTHER!" called Draco, sweeping down the grand entrance stairs of the manor.

From the corner of his eye Draco spied an elf entering the Entrance Hall, feather duster in hand.

"Elf!" demanded Draco, his grey eyes gleaming. "Why has mother not awoken? Breakfast was three hours ago and I've still not heard a sound from her chambers."

The house elf froze in mid-step. "Is m-master feeling quite well, sir?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and tensed slightly. Such a being should know better in the presence of its master. "What ever has brought about such insolence in you, elf! I am perfectly well!"

The elf shrank back, holding the pink feather duster in front of it as a means of protection. "Y-you sent M-m-mistress awaaaaay!" wailed the elf. "S-surely y-y-young master must r-remember!"

Draco felt a swelling feeling in his chest. He had blocked it out… all of it. He was forcing himself not to recollect. "Get out!" he said sharply. "If I see a single one of you elves before dinner tonight – I'll – "

The elf scampered from the room as fast as it could desperate to find the other house elves of their master's wishes.

Without hesitation Draco strode towards his study.

He had been stable when Lucius was around.

He could think clearly when Lucius was with him.

He needed his father alive.

As a young man of almost seventeen years, Draco hadn't _expected _Necromancy to be easy. He had always likened it to a delicate potion – like Veritaserum – a potion, which required intricate timing and an intent ability for multi-tasking.

He had also assumed that it would require a full Hogwarts education – an education he had lacked since his father's death.

Yet upon finding _De La Mort à la Vie : Animation de L'anatomie_ Draco realised that power could often outweigh one's school education.

The book outlined that as long as one had a piece of the _personne morte _soul the ability to bring one from the dead to the living was quite simple – well, it didn't require specialist training.

It required power and a desperate want.

Draco glared at_ De La Mort à la Vie : Animation de L'anatomie _long and hard. It was only a theory. A theory published hundreds of years ago. It couldn't be right…

He felt his mood change from hopeful to miserable. It was a weight that would pull him down for days on end.

_I can only try_, thought Draco. _If I don't try I don't have a hope. No one has ever brought a being from beyond the veil… but perhaps I could._

Shrugging his cloak over his shoulders, Draco made his way outside. A great wind was blowing, whipping his robes around him forcing him back towards the house. It was as though the winds knew of his plans and were desperately attempting to send him back to his the manor.

Forcing his head down Draco continued to stride towards the mausoleum, the final resting place for each member of the Malfoy line. It was a dark building of stone and marble, rising up from the trim, green lawns of the grounds.

The building and its history had intrigued, until the passing of his father. It seemed to him that it had taken his father away. Forever.

Reaching the marble stairs, Draco glared at the heavy lock on the door, which instantaneously crumbled under his gaze, allowing the door to slowly swing open.

Draco maintained his gaze on the floor, not wishing to look up, wary of what he may see. A burning curiosity overcame him and Draco's pale eyes rose.

In the centre of the room a silver wrought coffin stood before him. It was engraved with patterns of ivy and burning fires. A cold, yet beautiful masterpiece. Draco took a moment to run his gloved fingers over the metal, knowing the lifeless body of his father lay underneath it.

On impulse he jerked the lid sideways, immediately regretting he had, yet glad that it was over.

His father's face was visible, his body preserved through potions and spells. Draco recognised that his skin was as pale as the day he'd died and that every piece of hair was in place. He may as well have been asleep, yet Draco felt a terrible lurch in his stomach.

He felt his legs give way and he slipped down against the coffin, his head level with his father's.

"I want you back, father," whispered Draco, his voice cracked. "I want you back so much. I hope this works… I don't think… no…"

Draco mentally shook himself, he didn't know if he was going to survive the night.

"Thy blood for thou own," hissed Draco as he sliced his palm on the sharp metal of the coffin. Gently moving his hand over to his father's mouth he allowed three drops to fall.

His vision began to cloud with a glowing, silver light, but this time he didn't allow it to overwhelm him. He drew upon his will, every ounce of control his father had taught him, to force the energy out.

"Return from the veil," hissed Draco as a searing wave of pain ripped through his stomach. "I know you don't want to be there, father… I – I can just feel it."

Draco, collapsed beside his father's coffin, his head hitting the marble floor with a loud resounding echo, his eyes sliding shut from such an exertion of energy.

"Why Draco?" echoed a familiar voice as he slipped into oblivion. "Why have you upset the balance? Why have to changed things that were meant to be?"

A/N To me this chapter was a bit forced and rushed. I apologise. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

_De La Mort à la Vie : Animation de L'anatomie _means From death to Life: Animation of Anatomy (so says the dodgy internet translator).

Bright Eyes


	20. The Uprising

Title: Hush 

Author: Bright Eyes

Summary: Lucius talks to his newly arisen father.

Word Count: 679

Disclaimer: Not mine, never, ever, ever. Dammit.

A/N: Final chapter of Hush. Expect the Sequel shortly!

Chapter 20: The Uprising

"Return from the veil," hissed Draco as a searing wave of pain ripped through his stomach. "I know you don't want to be there, father… I – I can just feel it."

Draco, collapsed beside his father's coffin, his head hitting the marble floor with a loud resounding echo, his eyes sliding shut from such an exertion of energy.

"Why Draco?" echoed a familiar voice as he slipped into oblivion. "Why have you upset the balance? Why have to changed things that were meant to be?"

It was still daylight when Draco awoke. A lone beam of late afternoon light hit his father's coffin, causing the silver work to gleam brightly like a bonfire.

Draco pulled himself to his feet, struggling as his legs threatened to give way. He felt empty. He had used more of his magic than he ever had in his life.

"Come here, Draco," demanded a familiar, cold voice from a dark shadowy corner of the mausoleum. "You have much explaining to do."

His head whipped towards the voice with lightening speed. "Father?" he managed to choke.

An icy chill swept through him as the figure moved into the light.

Lucius didn't look as though he had risen from the grave. Instead he radiated strength and power. His hair shone gold in the amber light; his face resembled pure white marble and his eyes looked like dark grey storm clouds.

Rising slowly Draco approached his father in stunned silence.

He reached one pale hand towards his father, gripping his forearm tightly. Beneath his fingers he felt the thick, expensive material of his father's robes, but more importantly he could feel the muscles of his father's arm move in his grip.

"You're alive," he whispered, his voice echoing of the high stone walls.

"I am," replied Lucius, with a slightly agitated edge.

Draco then did something he had never done. He threw his arms around his father and held on as tightly as he could.

"Let go, Draco," hissed Lucius and wrenched his son's arms off him and pushing him toward the centre of the room. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing?"

"I – "

"Do you understand the severity of what you've just done? Did you think of the consequences or did you merely think of yourself?" demanded Lucius, his face hardening. "Answer me, boy!"

Draco stood stunned in the middle of the mausoleum. "But you're back. You're here. Things are as they should be, aren't they?"

In a single movement, Lucius seized Draco by his collar and pulling him up onto his toes. "I was meant to die, Draco. Did you ever consider the happenings that night in the forest? That perhaps it was deliberate? That you are meddling in things you don't understand!"

"Without you I would have died, father!" hissed Draco. "My power has not yet settled. We are going to have to do this together or not at all."

Lucius remained quiet for a moment. "My plan must change slightly then. You have changed the plan for the future, Draco. A feat not many accomplish."

After a few moments in silence, Lucius' demeanour changed.

"We best get out of here. Your mother will be looking for you," murmured Lucius, putting his hand on Draco's shoulder.

Draco stiffened slightly, realising the mistakes he had made over the past few days.

"I sent her away," whispered Draco, his eyes darkening. "I - I didn't mean to…"

Lucius winced but allowed his son to think before he said anymore.

"She was… trying to make me see Healers – from St Mungo's," said Draco slowly and carefully. "I refused and told her to leave… she didn't like that I was in charge so she was trying to get some power over me…"

"Then perhaps we won't invite her back for awhile," replied Lucius quietly, a small smirk forming on his face. "Let her be afraid. Let her wonder what has become of her precious Draco. Soon enough she, along with everyone else will see what the Malfoy name truly stands for."

FINIS PART ONE

I've realised that I haven't exactly gone into the 'Hush' thing… It was originally a spell… now I think of it as the quiet beginning to something huge… let's think of the entire story of 'Hush' as an ENORMOUS PROLOGUE! It's like the biography of Draco's life pre **insert something big and mysterious that would give away the plot**.

Please ask any questions about the sequel or this story. I love your feedback!!

Keep a look out on my profile page for the SEQUEL!! Expect it sometime in February!

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Bright Eyes


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